The Awoken Flame
by kubosz
Summary: A knight of the Scarlet Crusade finds herself a prisoner of the Scourge and her own dark past. My vision of what happened in the Plaguelands during events of WotLK. Reviews would be more than welcome. Second part Scarlet Diplomacy now up.
1. Chapter 1

Even the snow couldn't conceal repelling nature of the Plaguelands. Pristine, white snowflakes became sickly yellow, even before touching the ground. Thus, one could only wonder whether northern Lordaeron looked even uglier than or only just as ugly as before.

A small group of people moving hastily through this dismal land certainly had their thoughts elsewhere though, as indicated by constant, quick looks to their sides, fearful expressions of faces, horses mustered to greater and greater speed. Three men and a woman bore no tabard or banner – a fact most surprising amongst those that stood so proud and mighty several weeks ago. Now they were but a shadow of their former glory, their only wish – to reach the crossing on Thondroril River safely. Yet, even this one wish wasn't granted.

They appeared suddenly, out of thin air (or rather noxious fumes). A pack of ravenous, giant dogs. Their hides were rotten, and, in many places, torn away, revealing long-dead flesh. Their jaws – terrifying as they were – studded with black iron. Their eyes – cold and empty. In a split second, horses were nearly all dead. Only the one belonging to the sole woman in this small company – a mighty battle charger clad in steel – still lived. Thanks to the efforts of its mistress, who jumped off its back and valiantly stood her ground against incoming beasts. She slew three of them before her companions were torn apart by infernal hounds. Then the rest of the pack backtracked a little – maintaining a circle around lone warrior and her steed, cutting off their escape route.

One could only wonder what the woman's face looked like – for she was fully clad in a plate armor of ornate design. Red, black and gold were its dominant colors and it was of a sharply – cut design. Leg protectors were hidden behind wide armor-piece, resembling a lower part of a robe or dress in its shape. A golden dagger lying inside an open book was engraved on each shoulderguard and the helm resembled a menacing face hidden in a shadow of a cowl. Yet even this massive armor could not conceal feminine shape of a body that wore it.

Suddenly, great hounds split in two groups, thus creating a passage through their circle. A cloaked figure stepped into said hole.

- "Scarlet Commander Marjhan, I presume?" - The voice belonged to a woman, there was no doubt. The only answer she received was a sword, pointed at her. - "Well, either that or I've made a fatal mistake. Fatal to you that is... but first things first." - Said the woman - "Cover her!" - She shouted suddenly

As if sharing one mind, all dogs jumped at the same time. Female knight stood no chance. While she was able to slay one hound, the sheer mass overwhelmed her instantly. She fell to the ground. Beasts covered her body, so that she couldn't move. Her helm was taken off her, revealing beautiful face of a woman around her thirties with long, dark-brown hair.

- "Now, you're a pretty one!" - said female assailant, now standing right next to her - "Even if you aren't the one I was supposed to find, I'll find this most satisfying" - she raised her hand, surrounded by a black glow - "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit" - excruciating pain didn't give her any chance. Anguish nearly tore her apart. She felt as if every inch of her body was being simultaneously pulled in a different direction. She almost welcomed oblivion. Almost...

* * *

"Wake up! Damn you, Alessia, wake up!" - She opened her eyes to see her brother standing next to her bed. He was clad in his armor, sword at his side

- "What's going on?" - She asked in a sleepy voice. Slowly her senses started to grasp the reality around her. There was some sort of commotion outside, she could hear the shouts. And why was it so bright in here? It had to be a middle of a night!

- "Get dressed up quickly!" - said her brother, turning around. Obviously, he wasn't going to leave the room, so she couldn't count on any more privacy. Alessia jumped off her bed and started collecting pieces of her clothing.

Meanwhile, her brother kept on talking - "Lord Uther himself ordered all members of the Order to sortie. Everyone is supposed to gather at a meeting point near the Thalassian Crossing, ready for battle."

- "Why the commotion then? My house's just a few steps from the Crossing. You'll make it. And you didn't have to wake me up, just to tell me that! What's with this light, by the way? Is there a fire somewhere?"

Her brother turned to face her again. She quickly covered her chest with a tunic she just picked up from the floor and was ready to shout at him, but no words left her mouth as she saw his face. He looked as if he was trying desperately not to cry

- "Stratholme's burning, entire city's been infected and we were called..." - he lost his voice for a second. Marjhan dropped to the floor, suddenly losing all of her strength. Her brother took a deep breath, then continued - "We were called to purge it."

* * *

She awoke once again, this time to reality, she was afraid. Complete darkness surrounded her. She sensed that she was bare, chained to a cold stone – but where? The air here was damp and filled with the stench of long-dead flesh – a crypt? She couldn't remember anything since her capture, but maybe this was for the better? "What is going to happen now?" - She felt her lips smiling faintly as she asked herself this question. Wasn't it obvious? She was a prisoner of the Scourge. What little time she had will be filled with anguish. And after her time has ran out? Eternity awaited. But not an eternity she was looking forward to see.

She didn't know how long she remained in this darkness till she heard footsteps and a light of torch crept into the chamber. Two people entered. First one, clad in dark, silken robe, with large hood, that covered her face in darkness, was apparently a woman responsible for her capture, while the other one...

- "Theil!" - She wanted to shout, but she could muster strength for just a faint whisper. Theil Villsen, one of her unfortunate escorts, was still clad in what remained of his armor. His eye sockets were empty, though, and his body scarred by dozens of gaping wounds.

Alessia's captor giggled cheerfully - "Now, now, don't be shy Theil! Stand closer to our guest. She obviously wants to see you!" - Zombie heeded his mistress' command and came closer to Marjhan. Stench of a rotten body overwhelmed her senses.

- "And you" - the mysterious woman continued - "seem to be ready for our... voyage" - Alessia turned her head towards her captor, but then another jolt of pain struck, followed closely by oblivion.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

- "Prince has gone mad! They are killing everyone! Run if you wish to save your lives!" - Desperate cries filled the air. Refugees were everywhere, trying to find a safe haven, where they could hide till the madness was over. Yet, there was no such place. Disgusted as he might have been over prince Arthas' actions, lord Uther wasn't going to let the plague spread to the other parts of Lordaeron. Thus, Knights of the Silver Hand cordoned off the entire city, while securing small groups of refugees that managed to break through their blockade. Then, groups of paladins and priests approached isolated pockets of plagued citizens and utilized the Holy Light, trying to purge the disease. However, something went horribly wrong...

- "It's not working! They are burning... burning." - Jared Marjhan couldn't believe his eyes. An elderly paladin, man who has seen the horrors of both Great Wars firsthand, was leaning against the wall with his head covered by his arms. The man's powerful body was trembling, as if he was sobbing.

- "Lord Halahk!" - Alessia's brother grabbed paladin's shoulder - "What is going on here? Where is Lord Uther? Are there any reports of survivors from the Riverside?"

The man looked at Jared, his face marked with bruises and scars seeming very old, and answered - "Lord Lightbringer is gone. He didn't want to have anything to do with what's going on in the city. Prince Arthas disbanded the Order. Those loyal to Lord Uther have dispersed, but the others joined our young liege in his quest to purify the city... purify indeed." - Lord Halahk was lost in his thoughts once more

- "Are there any survivors? Is anyone -" - Jared's question was cut short by Alessia

- "What is burning?" - She asked, her voice seemingly calm, but Jared noticed, that it was raised a bit. Elder paladin looked into her eyes and started speaking.

- "The Light has... has left us!" - The paladin, whom Jared named Halahk, exclaimed - "There were some people within the city who were changed into monsters. They didn't usually attack their fellow citizens but they instantly attacked us! That was horrible, but the worst thing happened later, when we tried to help the others." - He sighed, then continued - "Most of us didn't have prince's... zeal and determination. We couldn't bear slaughtering them. They just looked at us, begging, pleading to save them. We couldn't raise our hands against them! So the priests approached them and started chanting and praying. They summoned the Holy Light." - Halahk broke off again. Jared stood silently, knowing that the man has recently been through a lot, but Alessia wasn't so understanding.

- "And then?" - She pressed on - "What happened then?" - Elder paladin couldn't bear to look into her eyes.

- "They burned. The Light didn't work on them as it should have! They were dying right before our eyes, their flesh turning to ash as they screamed in horror and agony! And we could do nothing! The priests raised their voices, but that only made matters worse. Those infected died instantly. There was no helping them." - said a younger man, who came from the city's gates. He was wearing scale armor and a tabard with Lion of the Alliance on it. He was fatigued and his face was singed by the fire. - "Now all we hope to do is to find some people who were not infected before the plague gets to them. Or the mad prince. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

- "Jared Marjhan of the Silver Hand and this is my sister, Alessia – lieutenant of Lordaeron's military. I was called with other members of the Order by lord Uther."

- "I see. There is no need for you to be here anymore. The paladins have mostly retreated. Those that remain are under prince's sway and if you're one of them – sorry, but I won't let you inside. I control the gatepost as ordered by my liege, but that doesn't mean that I'll join him in his madness."

- "No, it's nothing like this. We... we have family living in Stratholme. If you please let us search for them. We have to know."

Young officer eyed Jared and Alessia up and down, then sighed - "Very well, I won't stop you. But I can't help you either. Once inside the city you're on your own. Some parts are still held by the infected, and we don't know where the prince and his entourage currently are. You must make haste, though if I were you -" - he hesitated for the moment as they climbed up their horses and rode beside him but then carried on - "I wouldn't hope to find much. Anyway, if you encounter other guard posts further inside the city, tell them that you have my permission to commit your search. They should recognize my name. It's Elligor Dawnbringer."

Guard at the bulwark let them pass into the city. Once inside, they decided to split up. - "It'll be faster that way" - said Alessia - "Go, find Emelia, I'll search for father". Her brother wasn't sure though.

- "I don't know if this is a good idea" - he said - "We don't know what creeps within these walls. You'd be safer with me."

- "I can defend myself!"

- "Against normal enemies, of course, but here we are dealing with the undead. You never completed paladin training-"

- "And I'm quite sure I never will, thank you! Too much religious blabbering and nothing remotely sensible coming out of it" – then, without waiting for Jared's answer she turned her horse away from him and rode towards Riverside District

- "Find your wife! We'll meet back at the gate!" - She shouted

- "Keep safe!" - Answered Jared - "And may the Light be with you!" - Then he rode away, never to be seen by Alessia again.

Soon she was crossing empty, lifeless streets of once-sprawling metropolis, the power seat of the Order. Fire and death were everywhere, ground was covered with festive banners and broken wooden carts. Destruction came in the middle of a celebration. Bodies were nowhere to be seen, but time and again, she found enormous piles of ash. What transpired in the city was beyond words. Prince's actions couldn't be redeemed in any way. Even the most cynical, cold and cruel person would shudder seeing the horror that Stratholme has turned into. Alessia kept her head high, on the road before her, as she rode forward on her horse. She didn't want to look down. She didn't want to notice an odd object lying on the ground here and there. An apple someone was eating when the death came, now charred and barely recognizable, a broom that a maid used to clean her masters' doorstep, a doll thrown away when its owner was desperately trying to escape.

- "Keep your mind focused." - she kept reminding herself - "Find your father and get out of this hellhole as quickly as you possibly can." She was approaching the Riverside District, where her father's house was located. On her way, she saw groups of militiamen directed by priests and paladins, scouring the city, searching for survivors. But there were hardly any left. And those that were still alive tried desperately to stay out of sight. There was no hope for them.

She was about to find how far did the despair drive them. Although she tried to avoid any encounters with citizens of Stratholme, she was all alone in a city they knew much better than she did. Too good an opportunity to become a hunter to pass. They attacked when she was galloping through a narrow lane on her way to the Riverside. One of them leapt from an arched side passage and struck at her horse. Poor animal didn't stand a chance. It fell to the ground along with its owner. Alessia tumbled on the street and stood up, unsheathing her sword. The assailant ended her steed's misery with a swift blow then turned towards her. Marjhan tightened her grip on the sword but her hand was shaking. The others were coming. She was surrounded.

The Plague didn't affect all of them in the same way. Some retained their old looks; if not for their companions, one could say they were perfectly normal men and women. The others' shapes were barely recognizable. Large parts of their bodies were rotten, their expressions – blank, faces – twisted by horrible hunger.

- "Why do you do this to us?" - They moaned - "We have done you no wrong. We didn't ask for this disease, it was imposed on us!" - Marjhan raised her sword, gripping it with both of her hands. She was sweating

- "Leave me alone" - she said - "I don't want to hurt you. I just wish to find someone."

- "And we only wished to leave in peace!" - screamed a woman holding a large kitchen-knife, as she rushed towards Alessia. Marjhan dodged her and the assailant fell to the ground The Plague didn't take its toll on her yet. Her face was still pretty, though scarred by fear and hatred.

- "I watched my husband burned alive as he was pleading for mercy! I saw militiamen killing men, women and children! It seems that I can't even ask for a chance to leave this damned place behind, so I'll have to settle with making as many of you pay for what you have done as possible!" - She shouted while standing up, and then she ran at Marjhan again.

This time, others joined her attack, Armed with tools, rakes, smithing hammers, clubs, some of them – their bare fists, claws, teeth. Marjhan did her best to evade their blows, but for no avail. There were too many of them. Soon, she received a hit to her stomach. Her armor absorbed most of its force but it was soon followed by more blows. She tried to fend off the attackers, striking at them with her fists, her legs and a hilt of her sword, but they were relentless. A knife pierced her chainmail wounded her hip. Her face was beaten and scratched. They grabbed her from behind and held, so that she couldn't move to avoid their attack. She received blows to her stomach, her chest and her face. Blood flown from a large cut on her forehead, blurring her vision. The world became red.

- "Taste this, wench!", "That's for my children!", "Not so valiant now, when you're all alone?!" - They shouted while beating her up. The redness before her eyes turned into scarlet.

- "Enough!" - She shouted, raising her head. Anger filled her, washing away all other feelings. There was no hesitation in her, as she struck back with her elbows and leapt forward, when the grip on her lessened. She ducked and tumbled, avoiding a swing from an oaken quarterstaff. She rose and turned around just in time to dodge an attack of an elder man, who held a nailed plank in his hands. She grabbed his arm with one hand and his neck with the other, then thrown him at the woman with a knife, who attacked her first. She bent down and picked up her sword. One of the mutated citizens, who now resembled a flayed animal more than a human leapt at her, but she struck him down with one swift blow. Using the momentum of her attack, she made a full swing around her. Heads of two men who restrained her earlier fell to the ground.

- "You spoke of valiance, I believe" - she said grimly - "Let us see, how valiant you are when facing an enemy that actually strikes back at you, shall we?" - They didn't move. Even those that were fierce a minute ago, now seemed frozen.

- "That's the problem with a mob. Theoretically, you could easily overpower me. But who shall go first? Maybe you?!" - She nodded at a bulky man with a flail. He hesitated. She snickered.

- "You then?!" - She mocked a thin woman, who was gripping a crowbar with both of her hands.

- "Then I'll solve this dilemma for you!" - Marjhan shouted, while charging at them. An angry mob against single, wounded and furious Alessia Marjhan. They didn't stand a chance.


	3. Chapter 3

- "Now I want some answers." - said Marjhan sternly. A woman, the first one to attack her, sat on the ground, leaning against the wall with Alessia's sword at her throat.

- "Kiss my boot, butcher!" - she said. Marjhan sighed. Her assailant was visibly shaken, on a verge of tears. One should act tactfully here, but she didn't have time for this. She stepped on woman's foot, making her scream with pain as a sabaton crushed her toes.

- "Listen, I really find no pleasure in it" - said Alessia - "You attacked me, even though I repeatedly assured you, that I bear no ill intentions. You wounded me and derailed my search. And now you refuse to answer a few simple questions."

- "Others will hear my screams!"

- "If they couldn't hear all this commotion, I doubt they'll notice your shouting." - Marjhan shrugged - "But by all means, let them come. Maybe someone else will tell me what I want to know" - the woman seemed unmoved. Alessia sighed once again.

- "Well then, I guess I'll have to make sure you won't attack anyone else ever again." - She said. She took a swing with her sword.

- "No, wait!" - The woman screamed - "I don't want to die!"

- "No one does!" - barked Marjhan - "Speak up then! Are there more of you in the Riverside or has the military begun their purge there?"

- "I saw fires in that area. But you'll never get there. There is more desperate peop-" - her answer was cut short by a kick in her stomach.

- "Don't toy with me! Plagued ones – that's what they are! Haven't you noticed that some of your compatriots walk with half of their face rotten?!"

The girl moaned in pain. Alessia relaxed a bit. - "How did it start?"

- "What?"

- "The Plague. How did you become sick?"

- "Soldiers were talking about plagued grain. The Magistrate distributed fresh supplies from Andorhal for free at the start of the festivities. All inns and shops got their delivery from there too."

Alessia stood silent for several seconds. Then she sheathed her sword. - "See how simple it was?" - She turned towards Riverside and started walking away.

- "What about me?!" - Shouted the girl .

- "You don't look like you're affected. Try to get out of the city. Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't. I bloodied my hands enough for the time being."

She walked away a bit, then leaned against a wall and puked. Their faces... fear in their eyes, blind hatred born from great suffering and, worst of all, terrifying easiness, with which she carved a bloody path through their crowd. It all made her sick. She puked once more, and then coughed.

- "Damn it, get a grip!" - She told herself. How old was that man with the plank? He probably already had grandchildren; maybe he was with them when the Plague attacked? Maybe he saw them d-

- "Stop!" - And the youngster, one of those that were holding her hands?

- "Stop at once!" - But she couldn't. She wanted to sit down and cry and she hated herself for it. What kind of soldier was she? She couldn't be bothered to get a grip on herself when her own father was in danger! She made a careful step, then another one. But she still felt nauseous. And she really hoped that, if in the future she ever found herself in similar situation, she'd feel the same way. She took several deep breaths and, as she was getting ready to carry on, she heard the shouts.

They caught him in a dead end. A wearied soldier with several cuts and dents in his armor was under attack by a group of plagued citizens. There was about twenty of them, screaming as they were closing in on him.

- "Free grain, Magistrate?! May you rot in hell for what you did to us!"; "Why?!"; "We'll drag you to the Nether ourselves!" – They shouted.

- "Do your worst, mutated wretches!" - was his answer. Marjhan leaned against the wall, around a corner and listened to them. Her hands were shaking.

- "Once more into the breach... this time, it should be easier." - she thought, but she corrected herself after a while - "No, it shouldn't. But it probably will." - She grabbed her sword's grip with both of her hands and rushed at them.

First one didn't even turn towards her as he was beheaded. "Keep on shouting; you won't hear their screams". Using a momentum of her attack, she struck down a hulking man before her. Dockworker, the only one of his shaft, who avoided being burned alive, died in one, swift strike. She stepped over his body, dodged a swinging club and pierced the heart of a man, who was hurrying to propose to his beloved when Arthas began his purge.

- "They aren't the people you sworn to protect anymore. They're monsters... or will soon turn into them." - She said to herself as her attack ended the life of a noblewoman, whose three sons died that day before her eyes. A sudden blow, then counterattack and an acolyte from the nearby chapel fell to the ground. Then three thrusts and a local thug died, coughing blood.

- "Monsters!" - She parried another attack, then kicked her opponent in her knee and killed her as she was falling down. She took a step forward, while making an upward slash, felling a beggar, who each day received a coin from the noblewoman she slew earlier. - "They have to die!"

Suddenly, with a loud clash, her sword met another blade. She pressed on, wanting to overpower her opponent, when he shouted - "Take it easy! I'm not your enemy!"

She blinked. Before her stood a soldier, that plagued citizens were trying to kill. She put her sword back and looked around. All attackers were dead and she couldn't even remember felling most of them. It was much easier this time. She looked up at the man she saved. His face was pale and weary, but he looked relatively unharmed.

- "It is some fighting skill you've got, soldier." - He said, smiling - "Those wretches couldn't even know, what hit them!"

- "Really? To me it looked like they knew perfectly well, who they're going after. They seemed to hold you responsible."

He shrugged - "What can I say? This plague struck so swiftly... How could we have known?"

- "Free bread? It all seemed a bit too well-planned to be a coincidence." - Her pose seemingly didn't change, but she tightened her muscles, while eyeing the Magistrate, whose smile waned.

- "And just when I thought that the rescue comes, I find out, it's a prosecutor instead. Don't you think that we should find some place safe first, lieutenant..." - he let his voice hang in the air.

- "Alessia Marjhan"

- "Barthilas. I suppose you'd prefer me going as first?"

- "By all means. Lead on, Magistrate."


	4. Chapter 4

As they moved through the deserted streets, he was feeling holes in her knowledge with information. He told her, that shortly before the emergence of the Plague, supply of grain from Andorhal has doubled. As the festivities began, many people reported feeling ill and weak, but nobody thought that it bore any connection with fresh grain, let alone undeath. He also confirmed the rumors she heard before – Plague's spread was so fast because of food distributed for free. Barthilas believed that one had to absorb a concentrated dose of disease – by eating plagued food for example – to become infected. He told her about chaos that erupted, when demonic entity that suddenly appeared within the city, somehow 'triggered' citizens' metamorphosis. Soon it also became evident, that the creatures of the Scourge – mysterious power behind the creation of the Plague - have infiltrated the city. Cannibalistic ghouls, spider-like fiends and towering monstrosities, made of many corpses sewn together, were further inciting chaos. City guard was helpless, many of its members being turned into monsters. As prince Arthas' army secured the city and began a purge, the riots started. People were desperately trying to get out. Barthilas' words described the ongoing terror very vividly. Massacre of the guard contingent that held the Sewer Gate and following deaths of those who tried to use it by hands of Arthas' sentinels placed outside. Two ships, filled with people, sailing out from the port and then sunk by gunfire. Hundreds drowning. People, desperate to find shelter, burned alive in churches and chapels, as exits were blocked by armsmen. Undead appearing out of nowhere and spreading death and despair. Desperation of those who couldn't bear to strike down their friends and loved ones and soon found themselves being chased by those they spared turned undead – it was a picture of an apocalypse. Even all the terrors of the Second War put together couldn't match it.

Even though he wasn't much older than her, Alessia felt reassured by Barthilas' presence. She knew now, how he was able to attain such a high rank among the Order. His words were reasonable and soon she found herself doubting her previous suspicions towards him. Occasionally, she took on the lead, as various wounds Barthilas sustained made him vulnerable and, be it traitor or not, his knowledge of the city he governed made him useful for the time being. Thanks to Magistrate's efforts, they were able to avoid plagued citizens and hasten up. However, they soon faced a new obstacle. As they were getting close to the river, the streets sloped downhill. Barthilas prompted her to survey immediate area from a nearby terrace. Whole Riverside, built on the other side of the riverbank, was perfectly visible. While the city behind them was nearly utterly consumed by raging fires, the sky before them was clear of smoke and they could see the stars, shining above the bright glow of flames. The sight was like a sudden burst of fresh air to Alessia's lungs. Riverside was still holding up. There was hope after all.

- "We did it! We're almost there!" - She couldn't conceal her excitement. Barthilas' expression was grim, however. He pointed towards the river. Marjhan followed his finger and muttered a curse. The bridges! That was the reason, why the other part of the city was seemingly unaffected by this destruction. Nearly all causeways were torn down, their rubble filling waters of the river below. And the one remaining bridge...

- "Seems that 'almost' is as far as you can get" - said Barthilas. And it seemed he was right, for the one last bridge was a battleground now. While Alessia couldn't make out who the defenders were from this distance, she didn't have to. Grim figures of the assailants, storming the bridge from this side of the river, left no room for doubts. Even though she never encountered them in person, Barthilas' description from earlier on was good enough. Between them and the Riverside stood the might of the Undead Scourge.

Magistrate sat on the ground, resting his back against the wall.

- "You should be proud of yourself" - he said - "to have come this far."

- "It's not over! I'll find a way to-"

- "Don't be a fool" -

There was a new tone in his voice. Cold, ruthless, and firm. Any signs of fatigue he previously displayed were now gone.

- "Your journey ends here" - Before he could finish his sentence, the sword was already in Alessia's hands and she was making a swing at him. The blade rushed forward; a sitting figure couldn't' hope to get up before the blow, let alone try to deflect it; all Barthilas could do now was to watch Marjhan's weapon cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.

Then, the ground burst open and a twisted, hunched figure sprung from beneath it, straight onto the sword. Alessia, unable to divert its course now, watched as the flayed, disfigured humanoid is impaled upon it. Terrified, she watched as it grabbed the blade with its clawed hands and started pulling itself forwards, further impaling itself. Behind its back, Barthilas slowly rose from the ground and reached for his sword's grip. Marjhan cursed as she tried to release the blade from its ghastly prison, but to no avail. The undead beast, now screaming madly, didn't cease its efforts. Its strength seemed inhuman.

- "I suppose I should thank you" - Magistrate already pulled his sword from its scabbard - "For reasons unknown to my Master some of the plagued citizens seemed to retain their former personalities. You escorted me here, to safety, and now I can continue to do my work." - He slowly went around the shrieking creature, which Alessia still tried to shake off her sword.

- "Maybe I can convince my Master that you'd be a worthy servant. Maybe you'll even retain some of your former self" - he smiled faintly.

- "Not too much, though" - and he struck.

In a split second, Marjhan leapt to her right, barely avoiding his attack. She turned the undead creature around, so that it was still between her and Magistrate. Then she kicked it. And then again. With the third kick and the sharp pull, her sword was released with a loud, sickening sound. She staggered. Before she could regain her composure, Barthilas was right at her. Again, she just barely evaded his blow, then another one. Next one she parried, then backed up a little and, just as he was about to attack, she sprung forward and unleashed a series of blows. One by one, a sequence of lightning-fast thrusts challenged his defense. He parried them all, but Alessia was relentless. She constantly pressed on, determined not to give him any time to recuperate. The undead creature ceased to move, so he was on his own. Finally, an opening was made. She made advantage of it with merciless efficiency. Barthilas screamed as her swordtip was thrust into his knee. He tried to retaliate, but she was faster, again. She raised her retracting blade to bounce his weapon away, then stepped forward and, with all her strength, impaled him on her sword. Barthilas gurgled, blood flown from his mouth. He tried to raise his blade once more, but Alessia grabbed his arm with her left hand and gripped it tightly, effectively immobilizing it. Meanwhile, she turned the sword in his wound, thus increasing the pain. Magistrate screamed; tears flown from his eyes and more blood poured from his gaping wound. Alessia however was unmoved. She turned her blade once more and pressed on with the fingers of her left hand, forcing him to release his weapon. She kept her gaze on her opponent, watching coldly as life leaves his body. He seemed to want to say something, but no words left his mouth. Finally, he was motionless.

Marjhan pulled her blade from his body. Bloodied remains fell to the ground with a thud. Alessia didn't bother looking at her fallen opponent again. She just turned around silently and slid her sword back to its scabbard. Then she started walking away and down, towards the river.

- "A witty comment would probably be in order here" - she muttered to herself - "Pity I'm not in the mood" - she thought about all the plagued citizens she felled.

- "Well, it turns out you were the decent ones here. I hope your faces don't cease to haunt me" - she whispered. They didn't. Even after all those long years passed, they never did.


	5. Chapter 5

- "So close... so damn close and no way to get through!" - The undead attacked the bridge without pause. Every now and then, another creature emerged from the winding alleys connected to the riverside boulevard and joined into the fray. Plagued citizens, whose minds were completely devoured by the Scourge. Without any hesitation, they rushed onto the bridge as soon as they arrived on the scene. And they died in thousands. Even from this far, Alessia could see, that they couldn't advance any further. The defenders held the line firmly and the only reason, why the bridge wasn't completely blocked off by dead bodies, is because the undead have constantly cast them off into the water. But there were so many of them... And each minute new ones were arriving. Sooner or later, the fatigue and constant pressure will take its toll on humans. And when it does... Alessia looked up, further away from the bridge, where a large mob was waiting for their turn. She couldn't see them well enough from this ruined building she was hiding in, but she discerned several huge, distorted, bloated shapes among a mass of smaller creatures. They were larger than any being Alessia ever encountered, even the ogres. Just as other undead monstrosities beside them, they remained completely motionless, seemingly oblivious to the butchery around them. However if... when they join the battle, the bridge will fall, she was sure of it.

Sounds of footsteps had her turn around and reach for her sword, only to face a loaded crossbow pointed straight at her face. Sturdy, red-haired man wearing tattered leather armor kept his weapon in his arms with the manner befitting a grizzled veteran. His deep-blue eyes were fixed on her in a way that reminded her of a hunter, who tracks his prey.

- "Name and rank!" - He growled - "And a reason, why you're away from your unit!"

- "Lieutenant Alessia Marjhan, 3rd Regiment of the Thalassian Garrison Army." - She answered without as much as a hint of doubt - "Who am I talking with?"

- "A man careful enough not to state his name to a complete stranger" - said the man - "You still haven't told me what you are doing here, all alone, without anyone else from your regiment to support your claim. As far as I know, Thalassians are busy securing the roads west of the city. I haven't heard about any of the army's regiments being assigned to Stratholme proper."

Marjhan carefully looked to her sides. She had a clean run to the door to her right, but could she make it, before the man pierced her with a crossbow bolt? She didn't feel like explaining to him the reason of her sojourn into the city. After all, the penalty for desertion was death.

- "Don't even think of running to that door, missy!" - The man saw right through her intentions - "You can't imagine how many of your kind I've recently put down. It's disgusting, how weak men become in the face of danger."

- "My kind?! What are you talking about-"

- "I don't have time for this! You're either a deserter or an undead-lover and a penalty for both perpetrations is death. Now, I give you one last chance to convince me to let you live. I'll count down from five."

There was no use lying now, she didn't have time to make up any plausible story. But she couldn't tell him the whole truth as well.

- "I was on a leave here, to see my father, when this insanity started. I was on my way to the Riverside, to find out what happened to him, when I saw this mass of undead storming on the bridge. As I wondered how to get through them, you caught me. That's the story." - trying to remain motionless, she braced herself. The crossbowman remained still for a second

- "Plausible story, I guess." - He said. She didn't let her guard down, however - "Pity I've heard even more plausible ones today"

The trick was to predict the exact moment of the attack and move faster. Alessia spurred forward as soon as the man opened his mouth for the second time to finish his sentence. She feigned an abrupt leap for the door, rushing straight at him instead. It worked, partially, for he turned his crossbow to his left for a split second. He would return it to its original position immediately and fire, if it was any use. However Marjhan would be straight at him, and he knew it well, so instead, he threw his weapon at her, while reaching for his sword. Alessia ducked under the projectile and hurled herself right at him, grabbing his chest and sending them both down to the floor. He fell on his back, with Marjhan sitting on his chest. She grabbed his throat with her hand and gripped it tightly.

- "Now you will tell me what I want to know or I shall crush your neck!" – she said. The man remained silent, but he made a slight movement with his eyes, gazing at something behind her back.

- "You don't expect me to believe this ruse, do you?" - Asked Marjhan, but then she heard a barely-noticeable noise behind her. She rose to her feet, while picking up the man's body and turning around, thus using him as her shield. He gurgled, as a fist of an unknown assailant hit him in his belly.

- "Sorry, Leo! Was aiming for her head!" - A new enemy shouted. He was a bit taller than the man she held now as hostage and his hair were brown, but the face bore an unmistakable similarity to the crossbowman's.

- "A brother of yours?" - Asked Alessia.

- "Unfortunately" - answered the red-haired man, while striking back with his elbow. She moved aside and pushed him forward, right towards his brother, then she reached for her sword.

She expected a brief respite, but the brown-haired man jumped forward, not only not bothering to catch his brother, but using the momentum of his fall to propel his own leap. Marjhan muttered a curse and raised her sword. As far as she has known, the man was unarmed, so he should slow down before her raised blade. However, he didn't seem to mind her weapon, for he reached forward with his left hand. It met her sword with a metallic clash. She didn't have time to reflect upon it however, for his other arm sprung forward and under her retracting blade, grabbing her neck. Before she could strike back at him, he threw her aside. She rammed the wall of the building with a great force. A sickening noise and a rush of pain heralded breaking of her nose. She spat blood and turned back towards her opponent, only to be stopped by a blade-tip right before her eyes. Her red-haired enemy moved just as fast as his brother, it seemed. Brown-haired brawler smiled, waving to her from behind his back. He had some sort of steel glove on his left hand, though studded with animal fur.

- "That will be enough" - said her original opponent - "Sheathe your sword."

She had a retort ready, but instead she blinked quickly and asked - "Sheathe? Not drop?"

- "Whoever you are, you have guts. Even if you are a deserter, there may still be a chance for you to re-enlist and live. If the general decides so, that is"

- "You want me to-"

- "This is not a debate." - he cut her short - "You either come with us, or you die here, simple as that."

She slowly put her sword to its scabbard, though she let her face reflect all the disgust, that accompanied her action.

He slowly retracted his blade - "Good. You'll come with us. Locksey up front, I guard the rear, you walk between us. You try anything funny, I kill you. Simple as that. Now come on! The general will want to meet you"

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

A sudden outburst of physical pain brought her back to the reality. The memory faded in a blink of an eye. Alessia moaned. The sensation originated around her legs. As she tried to raise her head, another outburst of pain jolted through her body, along with a crackling noise. Her toes were being broken! Taking a deep breath, Marjhan gazed at her feet. Robed woman was standing there, her slender, white fingers creeping back into the wide sleeves of her garment. Zombified Theil was nowhere to be seen, the torch he was bearing earlier now placed on the wall. Alessia's eyes glanced over the small chamber she was lying in. The only noticeable feature aside from the stony dais she was strapped to, was a small cabinet standing near it. Marjhan felt her stomach turn upside down, as she gazed on the various horrific instruments lying on top of it. The torture tools were covered with thick, black ooze, which had to be endless layers of blood, mixed together and dried after years and years of torture. Alessia's mysterious captor seemed to have noticed, where she put her eyes on.

- "It is up to me to decide, when you are going to feel pain!" - She said gleefully as she approached her prisoner's face. She took off her cowl, so that Marjhan could finally see, what her tormentor looked like.

- "You're so young!" - She exclaimed, appalled by this mysterious apparition. She looked twenty years old, at most.

The wo-, no, the girl, laughed. It was the kind of a particular, high-pitched girly giggle, that makes any man's heart lighter, and thus completely out of place in the present circumstances. The girl was extremely pretty, especially with her jovial expression. Her hair was long and gleaming, black as a starless night with a delicate hint of dark blue. Her eyes – large, deep as a stormy sea, and bearing the same color. Her nose - small and curvy. The paleness of her skin contrasted with crimson redness of her lips.

- "Not a ghost, not a specter, nor any other kind of undead!" - Said the girl cheerfully, answering an unasked question - "At least not yet. But even if someday I will pass onto the other side, I still intend to look the same way!"

- "What, did lichhood go out of fashion?" - maybe it was a poor excuse of a sarcastic remark on Alessia's part, but it still made the girl giggle with delight

- "It'd be boring as hell!" - she said, bending over her prisoner and eyeing her carefully - "I prefer to remain within my body, feeling, yearning, experiencing" - she put her finger on Alessia's body and started moving it, while placing her gaze somewhere beyond Marjhan's field of vision.

Her expression became dreamy and her lips were now curved in a delicate, warm smile. The touch of her finger was soft and comfortable, though quite cool. A fleeting scent of roses accompanied her body, so much in contrast with the surrounding dampness and cold.

She kept on moving her hand as she continued talking - "Experiencing tastes. Joys. Pleasures" - the last word became a moan, filled with such amount of lust that it made Alessia shiver.

Finally, the girl's finger touched Marjhan's navel and her eyes met that of her prisoner's once more. In a split second, her smile became sinister and malicious, and a jolt of an unbearable pain flown through Alessia's body. Her world became dark once again...

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

She was waiting in the cloister, looking at the groups of scholars and monks wandering among the carefully trimmed trees and bushes growing within. Wondering, how long this peace will last. The air here at the monastery was so pure. She felt at peace here, a tranquil island in a midst of a stormy sea. It was as if she was somewhere else entirely, not in this forsaken, plagued land. And maybe... just maybe... thanks to their actions, other parts of Lordaeron would someday return to the similar state?

- "Lady Marjhan, the Commander is ready to see you" - a young monk whispered.

She nodded and turned towards him, letting him lead the way. Small chambers, where the military staff of the monastery lived, were located in its central wing, near the main armory. They passed through a small courtyard, full of weapon racks and practice targets, where several groups of armsmen were vigorously training under the watchful eyes of the Champion, Herod. Alessia nodded at him courtly as they passed near him, but he didn't seem to notice. Or didn't bother to answer. Herod's pride and aloofness were well known within the ranks of the Crusade. While an impressive warrior in his own right, he believed himself to be the best fighter in all of Lordaeron; Azeroth perhaps. Some of the more cynical members of the organization placed bets on how long is it till the day when his pride becomes his downfall comes at last.

Her guide now led Alessia to the long corridor and then the door in the middle of its length.

- "Thank you, brother..." - she let her voice hang in the air, for she didn't know his name.

- "Valdis" - he answered, bowing down, maybe a bit too deeply for her taste.

- "Brother Valdis then." - she said, smiling warmly - I hope you will have a pleasant day."

- "Of course you do." - he mumbled, just so loud, that she could barely understand him

- "Excuse me?!" - Alessia raised her eyebrows. Valdis shrugged then turned away

- "You don't even know me. What do you care, how will my day go by?" - he snapped, and then walked away, leaving Alessia dumbstruck at the door. She stood there for a while, then shook her head, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

- "Please enter!" - As usual, the voice sounded fatigued, though strong and willful. She stepped inside. Commander Dawnbringer sat behind the oaken desk, standing in the middle of his small chamber. Apart from an ornate goblet, filled with a dark ruby liquid – his prime and only vice, as he often put it – the desk's entire surface was buried under piles of various documents. Fingers of Elligor's right hand were resting on a tiny, emerald pillow, lying in such a distance from his body, that his hand could rest on it comfortably. In his left hand, he held a large parchment, which, if she hadn't known him so well, she would think he was reading, when she entered the room. Alas, Marjhan would bet all of her savings without a hint of doubt on Elligor sitting in the exact pose for quite some time now, awaiting her arrival and wanting to look dignifying.

Commander Dawnbringer looked almost exactly the same as during the first time they met, in Stratholme, three years ago. Maybe apart from the pristine condition of his polished armor and a lack of any burns and blood on his face. However, he was just as calm and handsome, in a rogue-like way, as before, sporting an aura of confidence around him. Elligor's brown eyes were hidden under his bushy brow and his dark hair was gathered in a long ponytail. His thin lips seemed to shift between two expressions – first of which was a haughty, sardonic smile. Currently, he was sporting his second trademark expression - a completely neutral, thin line that could pass as almost any emotion – from sadness to the barely controlled anger. Marjhan felt her smile fading away. Any chance for intimacy was lost now. Elligor was furious. And the day seemed so beautiful so far...

- "First Lieutenant Alessia Marjhan, reporting as ordered, sir!" - She stood at the ready. Dawnbringer sat motionless for some time, then he put away the piece of parchment he was holding and nodded at her, letting her stand down.

- "I'm pleased to see you in such a good health, Lieutenant" - he said - „Though I must admit, I'm a bit shaken by the fact, that this might be the last time you report to me. I've heard that you're going for the High Command." - So this is what it was all about? He was just afraid he would lose her? Alessia smiled delicately to reassure him, then took a step forward.

- "Elli, listen, it doesn't change anything-" - she started saying, but she was cut short, when he suddenly rose from his seat and shouted at her, with such anger in his voice, that she could barely believe it. She has never seen him like this before.

- "Of course it doesn't! The only, little thing it might change is my evaluation of you! How could you do this, after all that has transpired?! I thought you were with us for the idea. Tell me, when you became such a greedy, power-hungry, scheming, dastardly whore?!"

She took few steps back, dumbstruck by this sudden outburst. Her eyesight was blurry. As she reached for her eyes, she found out that tears were flowing onto her cheeks.

- "H-how much have you drunk?" - She asked, desperate to hear, that it were many, many gallons of wine that spoke to her now.

However, he just cackled - "You think I'm so weak?! You think I'd make myself drunk because I couldn't bear to lose you?! You think this has anything to do with the fact that every night you moaned with delight from my touch?!" - Her hand slid onto her chest. It pained so much. But suddenly, she felt her sadness fade away. Why should she listen to all this crap?

- "What is it then?" - she asked angrily - "What is it that makes you so furious, that you can't conceal it behind your sneering, weasel-like, haughty, and ever-so-perfect appearance?!"

- "It's you! Your pathetic act of selling yourself to the highest bidder! You used me to complete your paladin training, remembering that I was appalled by the easiness with which you wielded the Light at Stratholme! Then you threw me aside, like some filthy garbage!" - he suddenly waved his right hand, throwing an ornate wine-goblet high up into the air and making it clash loudly onto the wall.

- "And what did you think I was trying to accomplish with this training?! Do you really know me so little?! Why do you think I was striving to become better?! You held me here, Light only knows why, while war is raging abound! If I have to leave you to join the fight, then, although reluctantly, I will do it! Everybody seems to recognize my skill, everyone but you, which shouldn't surprise me, considering the amount of time you waste on looking at your own reflection in the mirror! I was selected as aide by-"

- "I know by whom!" - He shouted now with such a force that not only the whole monastery, but probably also half of Tirisfal was listening intensely to their argument. He swept away the sheets of paper from his desk in anger, and then with few steps, he found himself right in front of her. His face was now red and swollen; he raised his shaking hands and pointed at her - "And I'm certainly not impressed by your answer. Couldn't you really find anyone better than this arrogant, dumb, simple-minded, xenophobic bitch?!"

- "I believe that will be all, Commander, please stand down." - said a firm cold voice from behind Alessia's back. Elligor looked over her shoulder with a mixture of anger, disbelief and... maybe a hint of fear?

- "I'm leaving the Monastery and I was told that I can find my aide in here" - the new arrival carried on. Marjhan slowly turned her head around. A tall woman with a chestnut hair gathered into a tight bun was standing behind her. Her oval face was somewhat pretty, though with a kind of a cold, sharp beauty that screams "You don't have any chance with me!" She had a proud bearing, and her right hand was resting on her hip, over a handle of her ornate riding axe, a symbol of her rank. Over her shoulder, Alessia noticed brother Valdis, who was eyeing Elligor with contempt. He turned his head towards her and nodded. She returned the nod, thanking for his quick thinking.

Then she straightened up and saluted - "First Lieutenant Alessia Marjhan, at your service ma'am!"

The woman didn't react in any way other than simply stating - "I expect you to be ready for your departure in half an hour, Lieutenant. Is there anything you wanted to discuss with the Commander?"

- "No, we are all done." - said Elligor coldly from behind her back, sitting back on his chair and grabbing one of his documents. - "She's all yours, High General."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

- "Oh, oh! The love and the sense of duty! The classical conflict!" - Her captor's exclamation welcomed Alessia back into the world of the living.

- "You've seen this?!" - She asked

- "But of course! What would be the point otherwise?! Did you think these were just some random memories that came to you and that I have just casually made you lose and then regain your consciousness? That would be quite pointless and save you from pain!"

Alessia didn't reply. She was analyzing the situation. She has been captured by a powerful, although a bit weird-acting agent of the Scourge. She has been tortured, while her mind was being penetrated – but strangely enough, her tormentor didn't seem to look for any military secrets of the Crusade, but rather randomly glanced over her old, personal memories.

- "Wouldn't it be faster if you just took what you wanted and then kill me?" – asked Marjhan.

- "Now, that would be a waste!" - answered her captor. Alessia looked up towards her and noticed that she took off her dark robe. Underneath, the girl was wearing an attire made of finest silk, mageweave and leather – so luxurious in fact, that only a decadent noblewoman or a prostitute would dare to put something like that on herself in public. There was no body part it concealed completely, and for those that it did cover, 'conceal' was something of an exaggeration, since the material was quite translucent. The whole outfit was black, of course, with several metal elements made of silver and encrusted with deep-purple gems. The girl was wearing long boots made of dark leather that reached above her thighs. On her waist she bore a long loincloth, that flown down between her legs. It was even more transparent than the rest of the outfit and a dedicated observer could make out the shape of the ridiculously finely ornamented panties. Her chest was covered in a corset, which was sporting many silver ornaments, including two finely carved breast-cups. The woman's neck and arms were covered by a set of leather shoulderpads that met directly under her chin, where an enormous purple amethyst shone with inner light even in this dark room. Delicate, silken sleeves, covering only the lower part of her arms, from somewhere a bit above her elbows to a little above her hands remained attached to her body by means unknown. The whole, quite stunning effect was marred a bit by the fact, that most of the intricate silver ornaments were fashioned, so that they would resemble skulls, bones and other motifs associated with death.

- "I have seen many impractical outfits, and that includes the one of Sally Whitemane, but I must say you beat them all." - said Marjhan, unable to bite her tongue. The girl giggled.

- "Playful, aren't we? You like it?" - she asked, then she gracefully turned around, presenting the fullness of her revealing outfit to her prisoner.

- "You seem to be the type preferring to conceal your own assets, this whole armor and all, which is quite a shame, I must say!" - She said, while blinking to Alessia - "A body such as yours is meant to be shown proudly, not hidden away to rot. No offence."

- "And you seem to be a slut. No offence." - what was it with her and terrible attempts at sarcasm today?

The girl's face became more serious as she approached Marjhan

- "Once you cease to fear death" - she said - "What is there to fear anymore? You're free! Completely and absolutely free. There's nothing you can't or shouldn't do because you don't have to fear the consequences of your actions. You will never die so why shouldn't you live the way you want to?"

- "I don't fear death! And I have nothing against my life! I lived just as I wanted to live! Fighting monsters like you!" - Alessia shouted, trying to raise her body, but the chains stopped her. She fell back onto the cold stone.

- "Did you now?" - The girl asked raising her hand. Alessia instinctively moved back her head, but her captor caressed her hair delicately.

- "Let us see then, what else happened at Stratholme" - she said. Before Alessia could react in any way, pain struck her unconscious once again.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

"She is not affected by the Plague then, but does it mean we can trust her?" - General Abbendis' field headquarter was placed in an abandoned city residence of some noble family. It bore no signs of combat or looting, so it was probably taken over by the military around the time the cleansing originated. Brigitte Abbendis resided within the great hall, with the large table in the middle covered by the great map of the city. Various markers of white color representing Lordaeron military surrounded a single piece of black rock, placed near the bridges to the Riverside. Other than the General, Marjhan, two men who brought her here and disgusted Commander Dawnbringer, there were no other people within the mansion. While she was being escorted inside, Alessia noticed that soldiers were drawing up in formations. The battle was coming.

Trying to overhear as much of the conversation between the general and the Commander as she could without attracting too much attention, Marjhan glanced over a great portrait hanging above the massive staircase, leading deeper inside the mansion. It depicted a family of five, standing on a bluff, overlooking a large lake, with an island visible in the distance. The senior, a handsome, tall man clad in ornate plate armor was standing in the middle, with his wife on his right and son on his left side. The young man, who in his trousers, shirt and a vest and a monocle on his eye looked more like a clerk than a nobleman, had his eyes on another man of his age, who was eyeing him from the opposite side of the lady of the manor. Both this second son of the family and the fifth person, a young, dark-haired girl, whose features were strangely blurry and non-descript, wore ornate magician robes made of black material. Overall, Marjhan felt strange, ominous sensation while looking at the picture. There was something both frightening and compelling within, and as she turned her head away, she felt a sense of dread creep over her back.

- "She did provide us with the information about the late magistrate. Not only that; thanks to her, the traitor has been dealt with swiftly, before he could poise any more threat."

- "Sadly, the tale of her meeting and fighting with Barthilas can be neither confirmed nor denied, since we weren't able to find anything but the body of a single geist in the location designated by her." - the general and commander were still arguing about the credibility of her story.

She was thankful to Elligor, who confirmed it and was now trying his hardest to present it in a favorable light. He has also, though on behest of the general, called the Holy Light to wash away her fatigue and heal her wounds, at the same time proving, that she was not carrying the Plague. However, Brigitte Abbendis didn't seem impressed. From their conversation, Alessia deduced that Lordaeronian troops under her command were able to secure most of the southern Stratholme, slowly pushing the undead towards the river and cutting off all of their possible escape routes. Now, their enemies have diminished their forces in several futile attacks on the fortified bridge to the Riverside, while the general's army prepared for an effective coup de grace. It was clear, that she didn't want to compromise the safety of the operation, no matter the cost.

Alessia had heard of Brigitte Abbendis before. Hailing from a family proud of its military traditions, she has joined the rank and file at a young age and ever since she steadily bolstered her reputation as a brilliant, cunning and ruthless commander. She was famous for quelling the rebellion of Alterac noble, Abelard Thalmore, who believing himself to be a descendant of a legendary Arathor bloodline, proclaimed himself the lord of all humanity. Thanks to Abbendis' swift and deadly response, he was stopped before his madness could do any serious harm. Other than that, she has hunted down the rebellious bands of orc raiders, who broke away from the internment camps, with an unmatched zeal and passion. This was a person, that prince Arthas chose for rounding up and eliminating last vestiges of undead presence within Stratholme after he left the city and this was the person, who now held Marjhan's life in her hands.

She now turned towards Alessia with a look of disdain on her face and simply stated

- "You will get your chance." - before Marjhan could say anything, she raised her arm to signal, that she wasn't allowed to speak, and carried on - „Our troops are ready and we are moving in for a final sweep. Our objective is simple – we have to crush those remaining undead. You will go with the forward troops and I will have my men watch over you. If you try to escape, you die. If you fail to follow my orders, you die. If you show even the slightest hint of doubt, frailty or mercy for the Plagued Ones, you die. If you perform well, I will let you go back to your unit and explain yourself to your commander. That is all." - She then turned back towards commander Dawnbringer.

- "She's all yours now" - she said – "You take the southern approach and mount the first attack. I will have Leopold and Locksey assigned to your unit to watch over her." - two brothers that have captured Alessia earlier nodded at this mention of them -"„Move now. Jordan's troops are scheduled to attack in half an hour and I expect them to have a clean flank."

Commander saluted her and left the room, followed by Alessia and two brothers. As he led her on to the rest of their troop, he patted her on her arm reassuringly, then put his helmet on and drew his sword from its sheath.

- "You know the drill, men!" - he shouted, standing before his company, four dozens of men and women, clad in chainmail and bearing the alabaster color of Lordaeron on their tabards - "The General made a motivational speech earlier, so I will not bore you. I bet by now you know all about the Light and how it saves us and leads us and makes us better. Load of crap, if you ask me! The Light won't help us if we don't help ourselves first and that's what we are going to do! Screw the Light! Screw the general! Screw Commander Jordan and Commander Zygand! We will kick those undead butts so hard by ourselves, that when they come along, there will be nothing left for them! Now let's move!"

The soldiers drew their weapons and with a thundering shout they moved, Alessia along Elligor on the front, northwards, to draw the undead's attention and clear the way for Abbendis' glorious charge.


	10. Chapter 10

It's weird, how sometimes things go exactly according to the plan. Usually, when deep down within your mind, you hope they wouldn't. After a stunning feat of marksmanship performed by Leopold, who, having prepared two loaded crossbows beforehand, shot two enemy necromancers in a five second interval, they immediately had the undead's' attention. Crazed ghouls and geists rushed onto them in a stinking mass of decomposing bodies. Alessia stood her ground along Dawnbringer, felling at least one enemy, before they had to give field before the sheer mass of foes. Hoping for a glorious slaughter and plenty of new bodies to harvest, one of the necromancers led a group of undead after them, about seventy creatures, anxious to quench the lives of their victims.

The magician soon had to rethink his plans however, or rather would have to do it if he had the time. As Dawnbringer, Marjhan and their companions ran into a small, winding alley with their pursuers close behind, the rest of Elligor's men joined the attack from behind, flanking the undead and slowly making their way through the monstrous creatures' ranks. As the necromancer raised his hand, now surrounded by a whirling, black energy, a dark shape descended from one of the rooftops, in a few leaps making its way onto the ground. Before the dark mage could as much as raise his voice, his body was pierced by a slender short-spear, about 3 feet long. He was dead in an instant and his body soon fell to the ground in the middle on the undead formation. His servants quickly jumped in to kill the assassin, but she – a rather thin, red-haired elven woman named Yana, proved too much for them to handle. She rushed onto the first ghoul to reach her and, piercing his head with her spear and sticking it to the ground, used the momentum of his attack as well as the grounded weapon, to propel her own jump. With it, she was able to reach the nearby wall, where she used numerous small cracks and crevices to climb back onto the rooftop. Once there, she ran a short distance and jumped down onto the street, now at her commander's side.

- "Done?" - asked Dawnbringer.

Yana waved her fingers and a swirling mass of shadows manifested on her arm. It crept into her waiting hand, where it consolidated into the shape of a short-spear, similar to the one she wielded earlier.

- "He died in one, swift stroke. The head is severed." - she answered.

- "What manner of sorcery is this?!" - exclaimed Marjhan, appalled by the strange weapon used by the elf - "It's some kind of dark magic!"

- "No time for this now, with the necromancer dead, now is our chance!" - shouted Dawnbringer, then abruptly turned around and charged right into the middle of the enemy formation. Yana shrugged and took a few steps back, now leaning against the wall and letting other soldiers run by.

After several minutes, it was all over. The undead fought, if not with valiance, then some kind of twisted devotion to their dark master and didn't back down, however now they were evenly matched and surrounded. Archers and crossbowmen launched a mass of projectiles from windows and balconies, footmen advanced slowly, hidden beyond their raised shields and pikemen struck from behind them, piercing skulls and bodies of the undead. Elligor Dawnbringer was in the middle of the onslaught, his massive two-handed sword severing heads from bodies. Marjhan and Locksey stood by him, the former carefully taking down one enemy at a time with precise piercing strikes, the latter rushing in without care for his own safety, grabbing enemies with one of his hands and swiftly executing them with another, armed with his bladed glove. Soon, it was all over. Or so they thought.

As the last ghoul fell down, and Elligor breathed with relief, all hell broke loose. The ground suddenly burst open and four monstrous, spider-like creatures ascended from the hidden pits or tunnels, soon followed by a multitude of zombies and geists. Leopold was fastest to react, as he raised his crossbow and slain one of the giant beasts with a well-placed bolt to its head. The others however were not so easily deterred. Dawnbringer raised his sword and ran forward, striking down a ghoul on his way and closing in on another spider, but the creature spat some kind of sticky fluid, that rooted commander to the ground. He now tried to wrest himself free, as smaller undead were surrounding him.

- "Elligor!" - screamed Marjhan, who turned towards him. She had to take care of herself first, however, for at least three zombies stood between her and Dawnbringer - "Out of my way!" - She barked and raised her sword.

The sudden attack caught soldiers off guard, however soon they rallied and stood their ground again, though they were now forced to step back in both directions. The sheer mass of creatures pouring out from the tunnels seemed overwhelming.

- "Concentrate fire on those manholes!" - shouted Leopold - "Take down everything that comes out of there. Cover them with bodies!"

The marksmen soon heeded his command, halting the enemies' advance. As Marjhan slew another zombie, she saw Locksey, who now stood on one of the spiders' back and furiously struck it, time and again, with his armed fist. Alessia pressed on and soon she found herself back at Elligor's side, both of them striking at their enemies with fury.

- "Bend down!" - shouted someone from behind their backs.

As she heeded the command, Alessia felt someone using her body to raise herself into the air. Yana leapt directly onto the hulking spider, which spat its sticky fluid at her now. However, she simply slashed this obstacle in two pieces with her bare hand, surrounded, again, by the dark glow. Next second, she was on the monster's head and after another one passed, it lied dead on the ground and elven warrior looked for another opponent.

- "You have my back?" - asked Elligor. Alessia, busy beheading an all-too-aggressive-for-his-own-good zombie, simply nodded. Commander grabbed his sword and raised it with both hands above his head.

- "Then may the Light lead my blow and smite down my enemies!" - he shouted and hurled his weapon towards the last spider-like fiend. The blade, burning with golden fire struck directly into the creature's bloated body, which instantly became covered in flames. The monster fell down to the ground, its legs twitching madly but soon it became motionless.

They didn't have any time to recuperate however, as the line of soldiers placed on the street's end suddenly burst open in a mass of steel, blood and body parts. A giant, bloated creature made of several body parts sewn together was swinging its giant cleaver, spreading blood all around it. In a split second, all soldiers that originally snuck up on the enemy were lying dead or dying and the monster was advancing forward. Marjhan raised her sword in anticipation and stood, waiting. All the archers and crossbowmen fired their projectiles at the creature, but it didn't even seem to slow down. Once more, Yana sprung forward, using bodies, walls and rooftops to rapidly change her position and thus confuse the beast, and then leapt onto it and pierced its head with her spear. However this time it didn't prove to be as effective as before, for the creature continued its march forward.

Muttering a curse, Elligor ran for his sword, followed closely by Locksey.

- "Watch out!" - Screamed Marjhan, but commander knew the drill. He ducked under the sweeping cleaver, tumbled forward and rose with his sword at the ready, slashing open the creature's stomach.

Alessia felt her insides go upside down, as rotting, sickly-green intestines poured from the giant's belly, dripping with some sort of slime or acid. Dawnbringer backed down a little, but then he pressed on, making another slash. Suddenly, one of the intestines sprung from the gaping hole in the creature's body, coiling itself around paladin's hand. It raised him from the ground and then threw away like a doll. With a sickening noise, he crashed onto a wall and fell down to the street.

The creature pressed forward and now the only thing separating it from Marjhan was the massive body of Locksey, who stood directly on its way. As the aberration raised its hand, he still stood motionless. Alessia turned her head away, unable to watch, as the giant hand descended upon him. The sudden cry of shock, originating from the other soldiers made her open her eyes, however, and she saw the creature shaking its hand, trying to throw away Locksey, who now climbed up its arm, using every second to strike at it with his fist. The archers ceased their fire now, in fear of hurting their companion. The only one still sending bolt after bolt at the creature was Leopold. Alessia shook her head, reminding herself who she was and what she was doing here and then ran forward. She ducked, barely avoiding the giant cleaver and ran on. The creature's intestines sprang from its body, but she was ready for them. A swift slice and they fell to the ground, cut in half. Now she was under the monster's belly and Locksey was on its face and both used it to maniacally strike at it with all their power. Suddenly, the beast's left arm fell apart from its body. Before he could react in any way, Locksey was caught by ridiculously long stitches, which once held it attached to the creature's side. Marjhan could only look in disbelief, as he was thrown down to the ground and then struck with the giant cleaver.

A cry of hate rose from her throat and she ran towards him. She heard the shouts of others, warning her of the giant cleaver and she saw its shadow on the ground. She knew it was being raised again to finish Locksey and she couldn't let this happen. It all returned to her – disbelief, pain, hatred, a thirst for revenge.

- "No, not revenge" - she heard a whisper in her mind - "Revenge is a passion of the weak and we are not the ones to fall down before it. It is a just retribution, a payback for those who are wronged, that we must represent."

The old, suppressed feelings, the faith she had lost so long ago. What else could be the answer to all this pain, death and destruction? Was it just a beacon for the weak, like she has thought before? Or something more? Fire burned once more in her veins, a long lost feeling of elation flown again through her body. She turned around and raised her hand...

A blinding flash of Holy Light dazed the creature, whose head was now covered in white-gold flames. She turned away from it and ran towards Locksey's body. He was still alive, thankfully, though the wound was terribly large. She closed her eyes and placed her hands on his chest. How did the words go?

- "A candle in the night, the small, flickering flame of life to be blown away by the winds of death."

The creature, still staggering, now fell to its knees, one of its legs being pierced by dark spear.

- "Not frail thou art, but strong."

Leopold raised his crossbow, aimed and fired.

- "Not alone thou art, but with care thy grow among thousands who await the warmth of thine touch and the beauty of thine visage."

Another of the beast's legs gave in at Yana's attack.

- "Not swayed will thou be by the trickster that is darkness, but thrive thou will and spring thou shall and through thine light the night will be pierced and illuminated."

A volley of arrows and crossbow bolts struck the monster, who roared in pain. Light shone from beneath Alessia's hands.

- "No time to sleep. Burn anew!" - she shouted.

Her eyes glittered with golden light, and so did Locksey's body. The undead monstrosity fell down and remained motionless as the entire alley was covered by the warm light. Locksey took a deep breath and Marjhan nearly fainted, her strength depleted. Elligor was beside her, holding her in his hands till she felt confident enough to stand on her own.

- "He'll live" - he whispered.

Locksey stood up slowly, looking just as amazed as she was - "Don't worry now; the general won't have any other choice but to believe you."

- "Indeed she won't!" - said someone from the entrance to the alley. They both turned towards this voice and saw Abbendis at the front of her soldiers, strapping her bloodied hand axe back to her belt.

- "We've won. The undead army was crushed. You did your job well, Dawnbringer and now I will need your help in what remains to be done. And that of young lady Marjhan as well" - she said.


	11. Chapter 11

Some of them were still rejoicing and cheering their saviors. But not many. Alessia watched Abbendis' men relieving defenders of the Riverside of their weapons and grouping them together.

- "You can't do this!"; "We were fighting against those monsters!"; "How can you?!" - There were angry shouts, cries, tears and disbelief. The armsmen themselves tried their best to look away from the people they just „rescued". Only Abbendis still dared to look directly into their eyes.

- "I know how you feel, but the Plague must not be allowed to spread." - she said out loud - "The Light will be your savior. Put your faith in it and it shall guide you forward."

- "We have done nothing wrong!"; „You're sending us to our deaths!" - The people were in an uproar. They shouted louder and louder but they were surrounded by armed soldiers and unable to do anything. Paladins and priests in Abbendis' troops were stepping forward.

- "This isn't fair! We can't do this!" - shouted Marjhan. General slowly turned her head towards her - "How can you put these people to your sword so easily?"

- "The Light will give them peace." - Abbendis answered calmly

- "It will give them death! You know it well!"

- "Even so, it is better that those few die and the nation survive. Sacrifices must be made. Now, call the Light!"

- „I won't!" - Alessia's arms were crossed on her chest.

Abbendis walked forward and now stood in front of her - "You will, just as the others do. Do you think any of us takes delight in what transpires here? Do you think it pleases me to kill these people? We just do what has to be done."

- "I'm sure that you'll be saying this to yourself every night from now on to be able to sleep." - She was ready to walk away, when she heard general's voice behind her.

- "Then you don't have what it takes after all. Very well then, you will be executed as a deserter." - Abbendis said in a low voice.

- "What?!"

- "These are times of war and I've given you an order. For those that can't comply with their given assignments, the penalty is clear."

- "Y-you can't..." - Alessia felt sudden dread. So after all that she has lived through – this?! She faced death before, hell, for quite some time, she has done nothing else, but like this? She felt cold sensation in her stomach. There was no mercy in Abbendis' eyes. There was no escape for her.

Begrudgingly, she turned back towards the prisoners and started walking forward. The others have already begun their chants. The Light was being summoned. Tears flown from Alessia's eyes as they did from countless others', who now awaited their execution.

- "Stop! Don't do it! Go back!" - But she couldn't. What was it that she told this girl who attacked her earlier? The cries of protest filled the air. The chanting became louder.

A new voice joined the others and Alessia recognized it as her own - "So this is who you are? A coward?"

She never begged for mercy before, but maybe it was because she knew that no one would spare her. Barthilas, Plagued Ones, the undead – it was fight them or die. Here, she could avoid death. Was she really that weak? She continued to chant as the prayer reached crescendo. Then suddenly a single voice broke from hundreds of others.

- "Alessia?!" - an elder man cried from within the mob.

- "Father?!" - she shouted out loud. Elligor and Abbendis turned towards her. The commander raised his hand, but the general caught it, stopping him from coming to Alessia's aid. She shook her head. Dawnbringer stopped singing and clenched his other fist.

- "I guess I am a coward" - was Alessia's final thought before she unleashed the Light as did dozens of others, filling the plaza with golden glow, that made everyone close their eyes.

- "Alessia?!" - will his final words remain with her till the end of her days? Why did it have to end this way?

- "Why?!" - the desperate shout, with which she fell to her knees, tears flowing from her face, was accompanied by another one, even louder, but heard only by herself, for it echoed in the darkness of her mind - "Why couldn't I just die?"

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

- "Why couldn't I die?!" - exclaimed Alessia. The shout echoed through the small, underground chamber and then further on, through the passageways and corridors of the crypt. She was sweaty; her eyes were pouring tears onto her bare body. Her wrists and ankles were red, hurt during this lucid nightmare. She turned her head to her right and vomited, adding a new stink to the already rich collection of stenches, filling the undercroft.

- "What do you gain by this?!" - she shouted at her captor, who as ever, stood by her side, smiling maliciously.

- "I get to know you a little better of course. Those touchy moments you so reluctantly think about are so tasty! Tell me, why do you still cling to your loyalties after all that you have suffered at the hands of your comrades?"

- "I didn't-"

- "You killed your own father!"

- "I did not!"

- "Are you sure?"

Alessia was furious - "What do you mean by; 'are you sure'?! Of course I am -" - she suddenly broke off, for pain has returned. She thought her head was going to explode. Her body moved without her will, torn apart by sudden spasms of unbearable anguish.

- "Make it stop! For the love of the Light, make it stop!"

The girl remained unmoved, however and, just as Marjhan thought she was going to pass out once again, the pain was suddenly lifted.

- "You have unleashed the Light on your father. The same Light, which betrayed its believers' faith before and burned them into cinders. What do you think he looked like afterwards? Extra crispy or only a little charred?"

- "Stop it! It wasn't like that!"

- "Then how was it? Tell me!"

Marjhan, breathing heavily, forced her mind to return to these painful moments on the Riverside Plaza, but just as she was about to remember, the pain struck once again, making her scream with agony. Another few minutes passed, in which Alessia couldn't stop screaming. This time, it was her heart. It felt as if it would suddenly break free from her body, tearing it apart. After a while, the pain subsided, and she fell down onto the surface of the stone dais. Blood was pouring from several new wounds on her arms and legs, but she didn't even notice it in her fury.

- "You! This pain is your doing! You are blocking my memory with pain! What kind of twisted game is this?! If you force me not to think about these events, then I can be sure that I didn't kill my father! That's the only reason, why you would hold me back!" – she screamed at the magician.

- "Or I just want you to know, that I can do it. That I can force you to think about one thing and forget about another." - The girl held Alessia's chin with surprising strength and forced her to look straight at her face. Marjhan couldn't turn her eyes away from her captor, as if she was held in place by some invisible, hypnotic force.

- "Maybe it is like you said and maybe I just don't want to really hurt you – yet. Maybe I just want to know, where are those places I should be interested in, when I'm done with this boring little crypt and we get back to my home. That way, I'll know where to search for really funny, painful stuff!" - she said with a sneer on her face.

- "And if not, then ponder this: What if it is really as you say and I am only toying with you now. What if I can torture you so much, that you will slowly learn not to think about all boring, happy moments of your life, and remember only the pretty, anguishing moment of you raising your hand against those poor, defenseless people?!" - the last words became a shout and Marjhan felt a sudden, burning sensation on her cheek, as her captor slapped her face. Her head was thrown backwards, hitting the hard, cold stone.

- "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't really care; I'd be fine with both options!" - She heard the girl say, and then she slid back into darkness.

* * *

- "The reason of this meeting is simple: Elligor Dawnbringer" - Alessia didn't think, that after all this time, that name would still hold so much power over her. She tried her best to refrain from expressing any emotions, and hoped that all other people present in the small chamber have been too busy to look at her. Which was quite probable in case of three of them, the bearers of highest authority within the Crusade, as well as their companions. However Alessia was quite certain, that the seventh person present on this secret meeting had her eyes fixed on her, when commander's name has been spoken. Carefully, Marjhan glanced at Yana Bloodspear, the Master Assassin of the Scarlet Crusade, but the elf's face was, as always, nigh impossible to read from.

- "Ah, yes, the vocal one" - snapped High Inquisitor Sally Whitemane. As for Marjhan's opinion, Isillien's young protégée was far too bold for an upstart like her. It was amazing, how fast she has reached her current status. Some whispered that it weren't only the devotion and faith of this white-haired beauty, that elevated her so high, so fast.

- "It is about time we did something about him." - she carried on.

- "That's why we were called in here, in case you haven't noticed, girl." - said High General calmly. The last word sounded like an insult in her mouth.

- "Isillien, please, the next time you bring your bright student to the meeting like this, make sure she lets the adults speak instead of embarrassing herself. And for the love of the Light, make her put something less revealing on! It's the basilica, not a brothel in the back alley of Stormwind City's port district!" – she carried on.

Whitemane's face became bright red, though it was hard to say, whether it was from anger or shame. She opened her mouth to answer, but Grand Crusader Datrohan was quicker.

- "Please, calm down! It is not ourselves we must be concerned with at this moment, but our young Commander! Now, due to the efforts of our Master Assassin" - he nodded at Yana, who didn't return the gesture - „we were able to confirm our previous suspicions. He has contacted Maxwell Tyrosus of the Argent Dawn. Thus, he is no longer just a malcontent and a possible turncoat, but a full-fledged traitor."

- "Agreed. Elligor Dawnbringer has long spat his lies at each and every one of us here, and, what is even more disgraceful, at the Holy Light itself! He claimed that we were impure, that our cause wasn't righteous! Now it's the time to strike the sinner down!" - exclaimed Grand Inquisitor Isillien. His aide nodded enthusiastically. Marjhan clenched her fists behind her back. However, she relaxed a bit, hearing Abbendis' words.

- "Whatever's the case, Commander Dawnbringer has been much too vocal and too popular among our men for us to strike at openly. If we make a move against him, we might incite an open revolt among our ranks." – said High General

- "So what?! Let us root out all the unbelievers and those frail of heart and strike them down in one swift blow!" - It seemed that Isillien was now even more compelled to attack Dawnbringer.

- "Alas, we cannot. In the wake of our recent plans of an attack on Stratholme, as well as further incursion into the heart of Forsaken territories, we need all the men we can get at their fullest. I'm sorry, Grand Inquisitor, but as much as I share your disdain for those, who shun the true Light, I cannot let my feelings jeopardize our plans!" - answered Abbendis. All eyes turned towards Grand Crusader, who, as always had to play the role of an arbiter between the two leaders.

- "I agree with High General. Right now the unity of the Crusade is by far the most important factor. Thus we cannot strike at Dawnbringer."

Alessia let out a sigh of relief, however Datrohan hasn't finished talking yet.

- "And that's why we need the services of our Master Assassin once again. We cannot strike at Dawnbringer, but we also cannot let him spread his lies and consort with our enemies. If he would be able to 'disappear' mysteriously, while travelling through Tirisfal, all our problems would be solved." – he said

- "It would be as a divine intervention!" - said Isillien with elation. Alessia clenched her teeth. Grand Crusader's plan was soon agreed upon and the leaders of the Crusade readied to depart, when Datrohan spoke once again.

- "Yana, remember, that Elligor Dawnbringer is a formidable opponent and that he won't trust you a bit. It is imperative for him not to escape. Is there anyone you would like to take with you on this assignment?" – he asked the assassin.

Alessia took a deep breath. She knew what would be the elf's answer even before she spoke it - „Commander Marjhan would be a great asset, if the General can manage some time without her aide."

Marjhan looked at Abbendis pleadingly, but Brigitte's stare remained as cold as usual when she answered - "She is all yours. I am sure that she will perform most admirably."

Alessia remained dumbstruck in the chamber as all the leaders slowly left, Abbendis being the last one. In a last, desperate effort, she reached for the General's hand and begged - "Please, m'lady. Don't make me do this!"

- "You will act like a proper soldier and a proud member of the Crusade!" - Abbendis snapped at her, freeing her hand from Marjhan's embrace.

- "All this time you served me well. Don't spoil it now. Your new attire is waiting for you down at the blacksmith. Do not ashame me or the Crusade while on this task!" - And she walked away, leaving Alessia alone.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

- "What a lovely turn of events!"- Her captor clapped her hands, laughing cheerfully.

- "Once again – your mentor or your lover... I must say, your mind is like a treasury! Oh, don't worry!" - she said, seeing Alessia's eyes fill with tears - "In a few hours, we'll leave for a place much more suited for this kind of activities, than this dismal crypt. There I promise to take care of you accordingly!"

Alessia screamed with frustration and anger. Was there nothing she could do?

- "Aww, poor thing" - her tormentor now spoke, as if talking to a little baby - "I didn't know that you were so much attached to our little sessions. Well then, I believe I can arrange for one more. There is a certain memory I'd like to see..." - she touched Alessia's forehead.

Pain returned. Piercing and biting, striking without a warning, then disappearing for a while to return even more terrifying than before. Alessia felt an unwanted presence in her mind, searching for the right memory. When she was getting closer to the "proper" ones, the pain lessened. On the other hand, when Marjhan tried to think about something else, it intensified, making her pass out eventually.

- "Not this time" - she thought - "You want to make me forget. To pick several of my memories for me to dwell upon and block away the other ones with searing pain. To twist and corrupt my past by letting only few, previously selected tidbits circle through my mind. In time, you'll break me. I'm no hero; I can't resist all this pain. But let us see, if I can achieve at least a small victory, shall we?" - And she forced herself to think about what transpired in Tirisfal, when she was on the mission to hunt down Elligor Dawnbringer.

The pain was terrible, beyond imagination. It felt as if her brain was being torn apart. And when she didn't back down, it only got worse.

- "What are you doing?!" - exclaimed her captor, sounding genuinely terrified.

Alessia didn't care. To tell the truth, she didn't care about anything anymore. This defiance, however puny it might seem, was all that mattered now. The anguish spread to the rest of her body. It was as if she was being gutted, boiled in hot oil and flayed at the same time. She screamed, but her mouth became sore and she lost her voice. She cried, but her eyes dried out.

- "Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!' - Those words kept on appearing within her mind, but this time she wasn't going to heed them. This time she was going to persevere, either living through this torture or dying from all this pain. She pressed on. With all the strength her mind still possessed, she forced herself to remain conscious. The end was near. She couldn't possibly survive much longer. Her lips curved in a smile as blood flown from her open mouth. At last she did it. For once, she wasn't a coward.

- "Very well" - on the verge of closing her eyes forever, she heard her captor speak.

- "I'll let you chose once. After all, I have all the time in this world. And believe me" - she bent down, so that her lips were next to Marjhan's ear - "all that you have experienced in here will be like a gentle caress in the face of what I intend to do with you." - she whispered. Then, with darkness, came the memory.

* * *

This time, it was different. She found herself suspended up in the air and observing the whole scene from above. She watched Elligor Dawnbringer confronted by Yana, who danced around him, dodging his attacks with grace. Time and again, she stopped and attacked him with her shadowy weapon, peerlessly penetrating his guard. She saw herself, standing a few feet away from her former lover and his joyful enemy, gripping the handle of her sword so strongly, that it would leave bloody marks on her hands. It was almost theatrical when seen from this perspective. Both combatants called out her name but she couldn't move; her legs suddenly fused to the ground.

- "Honor or love. Discipline or loyalty. Heart or mind. Which will the poor, lost soul choose?" - she heard and all-too-familiar voice. She turned to see a ghostly image of her captor, levitating in the air just beside her.

The apparition smiled - "Of course, knowing the future events, I also know, how will the whole thing end. But nonetheless, it is quite a show!"

Marjhan said nothing; she merely turned her head back towards the scene on the ground. With one, swift move, the lithe elf avoided Elligor's desperate attack and swung the broad blade of her spear, slashing his throat open. Blood poured from the gaping wound. The assassin cried cheerfully and moved in for the kill. Marjhan closed her eyes. In this darkness, she heard the sickening sound of metal, penetrating armor and body, piercing right through it. Then came bloody coughs and a thud of a corpse falling down onto the grass.

- "So this is what you were so proud of? This is what you wished to show me?" - The Scourge agent's words were dripping with sarcasm - „I'm impressed. I would never have thought that you would cherish this betrayal so much-"

- "Shut up!" - said Marjhan. Surprisingly, the girl went silent, and then her visage just faded away. Alessia remained alone with her memory.

- "Go, run and hide! Hope that I will never meet you again, for I swear" - her lips moved. Though no words were uttered, she knew perfectly well, that these were exactly the same words her doppelganger on the ground was now uttering to the other survivor of the mission – "If we do, it will be as enemies."

Elligor Dawnbringer rose from the ground grimly, his hand, radiating Holy Light placed on his throat. The wound would heal, but leave a scar, the only flaw to his perfect face.

- "I hope that your new friends will welcome you with open arms for this gift you shall bestow on them. The Scarlet Crusade has no Master Assassin. A fair trade, traitor." – she carried on.

He merely turned away from her and left without uttering a single word, leaving her alone, with Yana's body pierced by her sword.


	14. Chapter 14

- "Is it all?" - Asked her captor grimly - "Are you done with this worthless defiance?"

- "Hardly worthless. There is some grim satisfaction in infuriating you. I made my mind answer to my will. You don't have hold over it yet." – said Alessia

- "I never claimed to have it – yet. I merely presented the right... incentives. But soon, I will be able to do anything I want with it – even turn it into a jelly if it pleases me. On my whim, you'll lose some of your memories and maybe I'll invent some new ones for you as well. You'll forget who you are and why do you live. Animals will be more humane than you."

A cold shiver went down Alessia's spine. She had no doubts that the girl speaks the truth.

- "Even if you make me turn against my own people, I'll find a way to defy your orders. Just as your death knights-" – she did her best to sound defiant but her tormentor suddenly burst into laughter. Sincerely, from the depths of her heart. Alessia's words seemed to really affect her

- "Death knights? Poor, poor Alessia Marjhan! Death knights indeed!" - and she laughed on. Her prisoner was disoriented. After about five minutes, the girl finally stopped giggling, and then spoke.

- "You are not going to fall into hands of Kel'Thuzad, Frostwhisper or any other lich or over-ambitious necromancer! No, you are all mine. And I prefer simple pleasures" - the girl put her hand on Alessia's thigh - "of mind and body. There is no hope for you, I'm afraid. You won't become a dark warrior, sent at the head of our attack. We will spend long hours, days, months even on very pleasing activities." - she said lustfully.

-"„Well, pleasing to me at least. And when I'm done, you'll find yourself more mindless and repulsive than any of Scourge's ghouls or zombies. I don't want to turn you against anyone, Scarlet Commander, oh no!" - she bent over her prisoner, licking her own lips - "Once I'm through with you, there won't be any 'Alessia Marjhan' to turn against anyone anymore. And now -" - the pain suddenly returned and she was too weak to combat it - "One last blackout while we prepare you for your journey."

* * *

The screams could be heard even on the height of the city's walls. Galvar Pureblood led his army straight into a trap and now it was being decimated, without any chance to strike back. Terrifying undead dragons, commanded by the will of their no-less dreadful masters swooped down on them, time and again. And the city's defenders couldn't do a thing about it, with a great host of undead between them and their slaughtered companions. Tyr's Hand was filled with refugees. Moans of dying and wounded, cries of anguish and prayers, prophecies of doom and whispers of hope filled the air. Every civilian who could stand on his own was armed and sent to the walls. And yet, all they could do was to watch the massacre.

- "Captain Willey" - shouted Marjhan.

The cannon-master, one of the few survivors of Grand Crusader's disastrous push into Stratholme, saluted her - "M'lady?"

- "Is our artillery prepared?"

- "Yes, m'lady. If they decide to come any closer, we will unleash hell upon them. However, those frost wyrms..."

- "What of them?"

- "We don't have firepower good enough to deal with them. Our cannons were not constructed so that they might be pointed at the sky without the loss to the accuracy."

- "Well then, think of something, captain. Try to remember the old ways from the Second War. You know; methods of fighting dragons. Do something."

- "Yes, m'lady!" - Willey saluted and went to carry out her orders.

- "Commander!" - Marjhan turned to see the city's nominal ruler, Lord Vraldemar, approaching her.

- "My liege." - she nodded as he came closer.

- "What is our situation? Speak openly please. The civilians are in an uproar and I have to know how long can you hold the line if the creatures decide to attack us next. We must devise some way to evacuate as much of the people as possible." – he spoke.

- "I'd estimate, that against their sheer mass we could hold indefinitely. But refugees, even if armed, are not the same as trained warriors. We lack firepower. If they push on with those frost wyrms and death knights..." - Marjhan simply shook her head, not willing to state the obvious.

- "And what about the Argent Dawn? The Light's Hope is nearby. We held alliance with them once; maybe they would aid us again?"

Alessia laughed bitterly in an answer to his statement.

- "And where did we get with this alliance? The traitor within their ranks has stolen away dreaded Kel'Thuzad's phylactery. They were content watching citizens of New Avalon get slaughtered to the Scourge instead of coming to aid them, why should they aid us then?! No, my liege. The Argent Dawn is weak and cowardly; all they can do is talk and let the others fight for them. I should know, after all, I was an envoy to their pathetic base of operations during this short time of cooperation. But do not lose hope, Lord Vraldemar!" - she exclaimed, seeing the man's face become grim.

- "High General and her standing army are still somewhere on the other side of the burning ruins of New Avalon. We haven't heard of their fall, so they must be regrouping and preparing to retaliate. These are the elite troops, personally chosen by General Abbendis herself for her grand plan. They won't let us down!" – she assured the noble.

- "Lord Vraldemar! Commander Marjhan! Come here, quickly!" - shouted someone from the eastern wall. They rushed in that direction. Someone gave Alessia a spyglass and pointed towards the sea. She gazed though...

- "They are retreating! Lord Pureblood issued an order! They are splitting up and heading west. Hold your thumbs; they might pull this off yet!" - came excited shouts from the other parts of the wall...

- "No, it's not possible. It must be some strategic move." - Marjhan stared blankly into the horizon. Her face was pale and grim.

- "What?! What is going on?!" - asked Vraldemar...

- "There! It's Lord Pureblood's banner! Going straight west! Scourge is trying to flank them, but to no avail! Seems he still has some strength left. And there! Another group broke through! It's large... by the Light; it might be a third of his army! They're heading towards us! Prepare to open the gates!" – continued the onlookers from the northern ramparts…

- "What is going on?!" - Vraldemar grabbed Marjhan's arms and shook her, but she still couldn't utter a single word. Suddenly, the postern gate in the eastern wall was opened and a man came running from it. He presented himself as general Abbendis' envoy...

- "He fights on! He... he made it. Pureblood's through!" - There were joyful cheers that soon turned into silence as more words followed - "The other group's encircled and... what is he doing?! No, it can't be! He's striking back! But why?! They will all be slain! The wyrms... by the Light, no!" - For a moment, the man was at a loss of words. Then he carried on - „There's... there's no one left. Only Lord Pureblood remains now. He is standing alone. He... by the Light! He... is gone"...

- "These were her words: 'Scarlet Crusade is no more! Long live the Scarlet Onslaught!' - They are gone. All of our best." - Marjhan couldn't bear it anymore. Watching Pureblood's fall and hearing of this... this betrayal at the same time was simply too much. She fell down to her knees.

- "Stand up commander!"- Shouted Vraldemar - „Our men... you are the leader now! Lord Pureblood's sacrifice must not go in vain!" - But she could only keep on muttering one phrase; one phrase that was now on all the lips in the city...

- "We're doomed..."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

- "And then the flagellants came." - The girl's voice awoke Alessia.

Sun pierced her eyes, used to the darkness of the crypt. She was surprised to see that they were already on the move. Someone has put her armor back on and then strapped her to the saddle of an undead horse. She only lacked her helmet, which she saw at her captor's side. The Scourge agent was riding along her prisoner, with about a dozen skeletal riders surrounding them. The undead hounds that have ambushed Alessia's party earlier were nowhere to be seen, but she could feel in her gut, that they were nearby, awaiting their mistress' command.

- "Once you have been crippled, your morale has been broken and your upper echelons left completely devastated" - the girl carried on - "Bishop Fellen and his cult appeared, spreading words of redemption and the righteous penalty for your sins. He and his cult of whip-bearers were quick to take you over, with people like you still brooding over your defeat and the betrayal of your High General"

Alessia's face became dark with anger.

- "Well how else would you call that?" - asked the girl - "She abandoned you, left you to fend for yourselves in the hour of your greatest need."

Marjhan slowly turned her head away from her captor.

- "How do you know so much about what happened in Tyr's Hand recently? How do you know about the flagellants?" - she barked - „Oh, that one's easy! They're mine. Not even the Scourge's, but mine."

- "What?!"

- "You never bothered to check up on Fellen, did you? He arrived in a perfect moment, when you were still reeling from the defeat of Galvar Pureblood and Tirion Fordring's victory over the Lich King. In one day your entire world has been overturned. Not only have you, the pure and righteous, been defeated; you have also witnessed the fall of your hated enemy by the hands of those, whom you deemed traitors and persecuted mercilessly. You had no answer and Fellen was ready to provide one for you."

- "Repentance for our sins." - Alessia stated, gazing blankly into the horizon.

- "Indeed. With Fellen, we had an insight into your minds. We watched in awe, how easily you were swayed by his pathetic cult of self-mutilation. It was he, who informed us of your sojourn into the Plaguelands and let us capture you."

Marjhan closed her eyes. Another betrayal. How could she still be surprised? For some time they rode on in silence.

The road she was captured on but a brief time ago became visible in the distance when Marjhan broke the long silence - "Why did you put my armor back on me? And where is my horse?"

Her captor smiled.

- "Your steed is a noble one. We will have him transformed into a fine undead mount for one of our death knights. Perhaps even the new Baron of Stratholme will take interest in it? And as for your attire..." - she was silent for a while, pondering what to say - "Well, there's no danger of your escape, that's clear to me now. And I want everyone at home to witness you in your full glory, the last potential candidate to the mantle of leadership over Scarlet Crusade, broken. Too bad."

- "What?" - Alessia didn't understand.

- "Too bad that this 'glory' is just a fancy suit of armor, nothing more."

- "What are you talking about?!"

- "Your last vision. The ease with which my hounds captured you. Lacks of any attempts to escape, even now, when we are in the open." - The girl shook her head in disappointment. She seemed really sad.

- "I have no reason to try and break you anymore, commander Marjhan. You are already broken and you didn't need my help with it. You probably can't even wield the Light anymore, can you?"

For a moment, there seemed to be a flicker of defiance in Alessia's eyes, but it disappeared in a split second. She simply bent down her head, not even bothering to answer. The cold wind blown, raising a cloud of sickly-yellow snow into the air.

- "That's what I thought. What a fleeting thing it is... the Light. Its power is beyond any other. When wielded by a right person, it can crush entire legions of foes, heal gravest wounds, sometimes even bring back the dead. Yet even a slight step back, a tiniest loss of resolve and it leaves you alone. A cold and cruel master you were serving."

- "Yes, I was. But not anymore, right?" - said Alessia - "When you have caught me, I... was trying to escape. Nobody knew. I told them I wanted to parlay with the Argent Dawn in the Chillwind Camp, where they are less hostile towards us than in the Light's Hope. But in truth I was sick of them. I just wanted to get away from all this. Now I know, that I should've told Fellen about this. He probably wouldn't have seen the need of alerting you and I would be now basking in the warm sunlight on the sandy beaches of Stranglethorn" - she smiled bitterly.

To her utmost surprise, her captor returned her smile. As always, her expression looked genuine. Maybe it really was.

- "Caress your sorrow; for only that sorrow is eternal, only this gloom is true and everlasting" – she spoke with melancholy - "That's why I do anything I can to turn the rain away. And I'm not ashamed of it, for only when I plunge into my deepest desires I can turn the tables on this misery around us. Only then I can avoid a fate such as yours – an inevitable, painful descent into the sorrow of a short, gloomy life. I thought that in you, I'd find a worthy opponent, but in the end we are probably the same."

- "You might have been our most dangerous enemy" - the girl carried on - "shining with crimson light when all the others went out. You made your mistakes, true, but your perseverance we could respect. Time and again you prevailed in this struggle, without seemingly divine providence and sudden, unexpected allies appearing out of nowhere, unlike the Argent Dawn, the Forsaken or the Blood Elves. You stood your ground when you were alone and no bulwark could protect you from our wrath. Willingly or not, you served as a shield for all the others, for whenever we would make forays into their lands, we had to break through your lines first. The Forsaken? Would the Undercity still stand, if the waves of the Scourge from the depths of the Plaguelands weren't repelled time and again by walls of Tyr's Hand and Hearthglen? How could they make their defense against us if we had come for them before they met their new allies? Same story with Quel'Thalas. What would be the fate of the South? Who would have stopped us if we broke through your lines? Hillsbrad, Aerie and the baleful remnants of Stromgarde would be swept away. The Argent Dawn? They could've been safe within their holy grounds, but one step away from it... Now they are all tall and proud, forgetting who it was, that got infiltrated by the Scourge so deeply, that had the phylactery of Kel'Thuzad, a key to defeating the dreaded lich, stolen from their keeping... disgusting! You are the ones they all owe their lives to, even if they would never admit it! You were the constant thorn in our side, a stick put inside the wheels of our Master's careful plans, daring to attack the seat of His own power when the entire world trembled before His might! And even so... turning to these flagellants, beating yourself up, reveling in pain and self-inflicted suffering, still existing only because we are busy up North..."

- "And you find this situation hard to bear? Because you've won?!" - Alessia couldn't believe it.

- "We didn't. Not yet. But soon we will and to me, it won't be one bit satisfying. There won't be an enemy to overcome, crush and revel in his pain. Only broken shells like you, unworthy of even spitting on, self-loathing beyond comprehension. I'm sick of this!" - and she rode forward, leaving Alessia alone to dwell on her thoughts.

The column maintained its speed – undead horses didn't need to eat or rest – and soon they approached the line of small, wooded hills, behind which lied Darrowmere Lake and their most probable destination. On a lonely island upon the lake, under the ruined city of Caer Darrow laid Scholomance – the dreaded stronghold of the Cult of the Damned and the seat of power of those fearful necromancers. As Alessia thought about it, the final piece of the puzzle fell on its place and the whole image became clear.

- "I know who you are!" - She exclaimed. The girl stopped her horse, as did all of their escorts - "That's why you talked about ghosts and specters! You thought I have recognized you instantly! And that's why you didn't want me to think about Stratholme anymore – you didn't want me to focus on that one, crucial element within my memory that would help me identify you. Your shadow magic, manipulative and sadistic demeanor; our destination! You are Ja-aaargh!" - Her words became a painful scream, when the girl raised her hand and sent a ripple of pain through Alessia's body. She looked as if she was about to answer her, but suddenly a joyful smile crept onto her face. Her tongue lustfully licked her lips. Something was going to happen...

Three figures appeared suddenly on a hilltop before them. Mounting undead steeds, clad in plate, with ornate runeblades in their hands. A sense of dread crept into Alessia's heart. Pale, cold faces of the new arrivals, hateful expressions, unholy mist surrounding their trotting mounts' hooves. There was no mistake – these were the prodigal sons of the Scourge, betrayed by their master and now sworn against him – the butchers of New Avalon and the newest addition to Tirion Fordring's grand effort against the undead might – the Knights of the Ebon Blade.


	16. Chapter 16

They slowly rode down the hill. All of them were once humans. In the center rode a silver-haired man with a stern look on his face. On his right hand – a slender woman, on his left - a young-looking, dark-skinned man with long, black hair; he was the only one, whose runeblade was a one-handed weapon – a simple broad sword, without any exquisite curves and spiky additions to it, so common among the death knights' arsenal. The soldiers of the Scourge didn't seem to react in any way whatsoever towards the new arrivals. Neither has the robed girl – she was simply looking at them ride down the hill and stop about two hundred feet before the head of the undead column.

- "So, the prodigal sons come before us! Well, two sons and a daughter, actually, but that doesn't sound so good. What do you want here, twice-the-traitors?" - she asked.

- "Isn't it obvious, Scourge filth?" - Snapped the white-haired death knight - "Your head. And your prisoner."

- "You mean your prisoner's, gramps" - the youngest one cut in.

- "Alaris!" - Shouted the woman.

- "What?! She's a Scarlet! As good a reason for her to die as any other!"

One of Alessia's captor's eyebrows went up as she snickered and said - "It seems there is no agreement within your ranks. Should I give you some time to consider your options? I'll wait here, no worries!"

- "I'm sick of this!" - shouted Alaris, spurring his steed and charging forward. Other two death knights were ready to follow when a pack of undead hounds suddenly appeared out of thin air with an unearthly howl and leapt at them from behind. At the same time, two more death knights, an elf and the human, charged at the column from its right and left side, respectively. The skeletal riders dispersed to face the new arrivals. The deathcharger that bore Alessia suddenly stood up on its hind-legs, throwing her down onto the ground.

- "So that you don't use the opportunity to escape" - said her captor - "Save one alive and conscious! The stupid one preferably! He should be more fun than the Scarlet!"

Two death knights fared much better against the scourgehounds than she did, Alessia had to admit. They jumped to the ground and stood back-to-back against incoming beasts. Their massive swords didn't let even one of the undead animals come close enough to become a threat. Seeing that their efforts are in vain, the beasts dispersed, spreading all across the battlefield. Two warriors didn't intend to let them go so easily, however. They immediately summoned their unholy powers and picked the hounds off the ground, one after another, pulling them back into their swords' range and quickly finishing them off.

Meanwhile, skeletal warriors divided into two groups. One formed a circle around Alessia, the other rushed towards their left, to engage the elven death knight and forward, to face Alaris. However, he broke through them with ease, felling three and charging on with a cry of victory on his lips. Suddenly, a lash made of pure shadow energy sprang from the ground, cutting off the head of his deathcharger. He fell to the ground, taken by surprise, releasing the hold on his sword, which fell some distance away. Having recomposed himself, Alaris reached for his weapon, but another burst of dark power first sent him flying some forty feet away and then grabbed and held him in a mass of black tentacles emerging from the plagued soil. He tried to break their hold, but to no avail. He looked angrily at the Scourge's leader, who was now smiling broadly, her hand surrounded by a swirling vortex of arcane power.

- "Davan! Armelos! Take the witch down!" - he shouted.

Both warriors rushed at the girl in response, but it was easier said than done. The human had to get through the group that held Alessia, first. The elf had a clear way, but five undead hounds were going for his steed, followed by three skeletal riders. Armelos chopped off one of the dogs' head, but the others made quick work of his mount. Agile elf jumped as his horse fell to the ground and landed on his feet, in one, great swing taking down all of the remaining beasts. He stretched his hand forward and one of the undead fell off his horse, as if pulled towards the elf by some invisible force. Death knight ran forward and struck the skeleton as it flew past him. In an instant, the elf was between the two remaining riders. His sword moved so fast, that it was hard to keep up with it. It seemed as if both skeletons rode by him unscathed. They went on for a few seconds, and then suddenly, both slid down from their saddles at the same time and crashed onto the ground, falling apart into rubble of bones. The leader of the undead raised her hand, mocking a salute, but she was suddenly thrown off her horse.

The other death knight ordered to kill the mage, Davan, instead of wasting time to circle around the group of undead keeping Alessia, went straight towards them. The skeletons facing him slashed his steed when he was entering their range, thus taking it out. However, the headless body, borne forward with the momentum of the charge, fell down inside the circle. The unfortunate deathcharger's master was already standing on its back when his steed was beheaded and jumped into the air, while raising his hand. Suddenly, one of the skeletal horses on the other side of the circle was pulled towards him. Davan landed on its saddle, felling the skeleton occupying it and jumped again, flying over the other skeletons' heads and then smashing right into the black-robed girl. They both fell off her horse and rolled on the ground. Suddenly, all the skeletons that maintained the circle around Alessia rushed to defend their mistress, forgetting completely about their prisoner, but they were soon engaged in combat by Armelos, who has meanwhile mounted one of the steeds of his previous opponents. With her freedom so unexpectedly returned to her, Marjhan rose from the ground and looked around, not really sure, what to do. Run? No matter, who wins this fight, he or she will soon remember about her and neither Scourge nor the Ebon Blade were known for their love of Scarlets. Fight? But how? Not only she thought herself outclassed by any of the other combatants, she didn't even have a weapon... Suddenly, her gaze fixed on a runeblade, dropped earlier by the rash death knight...

Meanwhile, Davan's cry of victory was cut short, as his sword struck at nothing and the girl, whose throat he was holding with his left hand, and on whose body he sat, disappeared.

- "Wha-" - he couldn't even utter the word, for suddenly a mass of shadows coiled around him and materialized in a form of the Scourge's agent. An explosion of dark power sent him to the ground and his opponent didn't give him any time to react. Fast as lightning, her hand struck forwards. Davan screamed with pain. His runeblade fell off his grip. His right hand was sticked to the ground by an ornate dagger. He raised his left arm trying to grab the attacker, who now sat on his chest, but she was faster. She caught his wrist and now sent the shadow energy, jolt after jolt, through it, into his body, making him roar with pain.

- "Tsk, tsk, tsk; not a way to treat a lady. I'm afraid we don't know each other so well as to be tumbling on the ground together." - she smirked.

Elven knight rushed to his comrade's aid, but first, he had to deal with remaining skeletons that now stood between him and their mistress. He charged at them, hacking, slashing and piercing. He struck down three, before the others slew his horse and surrounded him. Skeletons attacked in unison. Armelos used all of his guile and agility to dodge and parry incoming attacks, but some of them slipped under his guard. The elf defeated another of his opponents, but his armor was pierced in several places now, blood flowing from the open wounds.

- "Thuliss! Go and help Armelos! I'll aid Davan!" - The white-haired death knight shouted, cleaving a plaguehound in two, and then hurrying towards his companion. Female warrior nodded and finished off the last of the undead dogs.

- "Afraid you're out of time, dear!" - Scourge's leader snickered - "He's coming and your friend's time among the living is over... again!"

She then grabbed her dagger, freeing her prisoner's hand and grabbed it in both of her arms, which she raised above her head. She closed her eyes. The leader of death knights opened his eyes wide and ran faster.

- "Davan!" - he shouted, but his companion was too weary from the torment dealt by the girl's terrifying shadow magic.

All he could do was to look blankly at her, when she opened her eyes and whispered - "Scream in silence. Just for me!" - And she thrust her dagger right into his throat.

Alessia felt sick when she heard the girl moan in ecstasy as the death knight's body beneath her moved spasmodically in its death throes.

- "Gotta love my job, some pleasant surprise every day!" - she exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the raging knight closing in on her.

- "You should be more cautious." - she said, still trembling with delight, when the white-haired adversary was suddenly hit by some force so great, that it sent him flying in the air.

Alessia looked around to find a mysterious new arrival, but it was moving so fast, that all she could make out was a black shape, about as large as a human, circling in the air. Finally, after a while, it stopped, hovering above them. Its large, leathery wings struck the air with great force. Its entire body was covered with fur, which once was probably gray, but now, stained with dried blood, became a mix between rusty red and dirty brown. Its relatively small, rat-like face sported many sharp fangs. Its eyes, from this distance, but two dots of utter blackness, were said to be able to hypnotize its victims, making them utterly devoid of any will to fight. The creature's massive ears resembled those of a bat and its claws were hawk-like. Some said that this monster, famous for its craving of blood from innocent victims, was once a man and it even retained the ability to transform into humanoid form. Or it was the reverse – it was a human, and its new form was simply some shape-shifting ability, granted to him by his Scourge masters. Alessia opened her mouth widely, and then shut it up, making her teeth clang loudly. She has recognized the monster – A Lone Hunter, Blood Drinker, Bane of the Plaguelands, Herald of the Scourge – it bore many titles. Kirtonos.

- "We're so screwed" - she mumbled.

The death knights, however, didn't give up. They seemed to acknowledge their comrade's demise, ignoring his spasmodic movement, strangely devoid of any screams, though his mouth was open wide. The white-haired warrior stood up and raised his sword in both hands, eyeing the nightmarish gargoyle and bracing himself for another attack. Meanwhile, the female knight struck at skeletal knights with fury. The air around her was filled with tiny crystals of ice that has also covered her enemies' joints, slowing down their movements and making them an easy prey. Alaris was still struggling with his shadowy bonds, but he suddenly stopped with a painful cry.

- "I wouldn't if I were you" - said the Scourge magician, who, now finished with Davan, still sat on his body and was now busy with clearing her face, stained with dead man's blood. - "If you struggle, they will grip you harder and eventually cut you to pieces."

Meanwhile, Kirtonos swooped at death knights' leader. He was moving with great speed, but suddenly, just as his opponent was about to chop off his head, he sprung back into the air. He then made an abrupt turn and plummeted back towards the ground. His enemy jumped aside, simultaneously striking with his blade so that it cut through the gargoyle's trajectory. Blood flown from the fresh wound and Kirtonos screeched so intensely, that it left all combatants dazed for a second. His adversary recomposed nearly instantly, but the monster was already back in the air. The warrior raised his hand and suddenly, Kirtonos not only slowed down, but started to move back towards him, first slowly and then faster. It was apparent, that he lost control over his flight, as his monstrous face was frozen in fear. Death knight readied his weapon to strike, but just as he slashed, the gargoyle disappeared. On its place appeared tall, skeletal figure clad in black leather, which flew past his opponent's blade, landed on the ground and turned abruptly. Just as the death knight raised his sword, Kirtonos' foot struck his legs. The undead then attacked with his hand, hitting his opponent's chest and throwing him away with surprising strength. White-haired death knight flew a couple of feet, tumbled and rose with his sword drawn. He was appalled by his opponent's speed and strength. His armor had a hole in the place, where Kirtonos' hand struck and blood flown from an open wound. In silence, the adversaries ran towards each other.

Meanwhile, two other death knights took down the remaining skeletons and hurried to aid their comrade. Armelos grabbed one of his fallen enemies' sword and thrown it at Kirtonos while running. The ghastly undead caught the sword's grip, however, and used it to parry white-haired death knight's runeblade. As he passed by his opponent, he was engaged by Thuliss, who struck at him time and again relentlessly, trying to absorb all of his attention. Screaming with fury, the leader of the party turned and attacked from behind, but his attack was sloppy and careless. Kirtonos moved his body slightly and the sword not only went by him, but clashed into Thuliss' weapon, confusing the female death knight. She couldn't even notice the moment, in which the Herald's blade severed her head from her body. Kirtonos struck at his other opponent, but he had to back down when Armelos joined the fray. Two death knights advanced, their furious attacks not giving Kirtonos as much as a second of pause.

Alessia made her mind. She ran towards Alaris' blade now. After all, dying in a reckless display of valor was the Crusaders' specialty, not theirs.

- "And where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" - She heard her captor's voice behind her. She turned around to see six images of the magician, each one in an identical pose, bearing an ornate dagger.

- "Which one? Make a guess!" - laughed all of them. Alessia bent down and touched the ground, sending a ripple of holy energy through it. Five silhouettes glown and disappeared suddenly, leaving sixth one dumbstruck. Marjhan jumped forward and hit the Scourge's agent in her face. The girl spat blood and moaned, when Alessia's fist struck her belly. She fell to her knees. Her former prisoner grabbed her head with both her hands.

- "You said you can't wield the Light anymore!" - exclaimed her captor.

- "I lied. Cry more!" - said Alessia and, with all of her strength, she pulled the sorceress' head down, while raising her leg. Marjhan's armored knee struck with great force, crushing the girl's nose and sending her to the world of dreams.

- "Bet you regret putting this armor back on me now, eh?" - said Alessia, throwing her captor's unconscious body away.

- "Don't even try that, you Scarlet whore!" - Alaris, now free of his bonds, went for his weapon as well - „Just sit down and maybe we'll let you live after we take care of this bat!"

Marjhan wasn't paying any attention to his threats, however. The runic blade beckoned her. She could swear she heard a faint voice, pleading her to take the sword. The stories she heard... they said, that hungry, malicious spirits, beings of shadow, inhabited those weapons. They obeyed their undead masters, but anyone, who was not devoid of heart and as much as touched them risked his humanity... his soul.

- "Did you hear that, bitch?! This sword's mine!" - Rash death knight was but a step away - "You take it and it will devour you! Are you so eager to die?!"

In truth, she was indifferent. After all, the Scourge's agent was right in one thing. She was broken. Maybe it was a fate just as good as any other? She reached for the sword...

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

Every time she heard about evil artifacts trying to possess their owners, Alessia imagined cold, hissing voices dripping venom into heroes' hearts. She thought of whispers on the border of one's comprehension, barely audible, yet ever persistent in their effort to bind one to their will. It was all so theatrical. But, to her utmost surprise, the reality proved her imagination right. It was exactly as she had envisioned it in the past. An utter darkness, in which she found herself, surrounded by these voices. Thousands upon thousands whispered in agony, fear, anxiety. A myriad of languages. She recognized common, but also Thalassian, Dwarven. The weird, grunting sounds were probably orcish or ogrish. Others, she couldn't make out. Before her, or rather her ghostly visage, in nothingness, levitated the runeblade. She eyed it up and down. The bastard sword was simple and straight, yet on the other hand, it emanated a sense of dread. There were no skulls adoring the handle; the only signs of the weapon's unholy nature being dark blue, violet and black runes engraved upon its surface. It beckoned her, called her name. She approached, treading carefully within nothingness. She didn't dare to think, how it was possible, to step on the thin air. As she was close to the sword, she felt cold. She removed her glove and saw that there were goosebumps on her hand... Then, she saw him.

Beyond the sword, on the border of her vision, was a throne of utter darkness. And on this throne sat someone. The shadows obscured his shape, but she could make out a human silhouette. Whoever was sitting there, didn't utter a word, but she suddenly knew, that he made her an offer. She could have the sword and all that it promised. All she needed to do was give in. It was his weapon and only he could be its master. Here, defiance meant nothing; it was just an empty word with no meaning behind it. Here, the Light was worthless. It was his kingdom and all she could do was to accept or to be destroyed.

She stepped forward, still hesitant to pick up the blade. Then, he was right before her. A dark, ominous figure, nearing seven feet in its height. Now she could see that he was wearing a suit of old battle armor, dented in countless battles. It was pierced in many places, however beneath those holes she could see nothing, only utter darkness. He didn't bear any helmet, however his face was hidden under a cowl and Alessia didn't dare to gaze too deeply into it. He reached with his hand and in an instant she knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to know her, to read her mind, just as the Scourge minion did. She was terrified, but she couldn't muster her strength. It has suddenly left her and so, she accepted his touch and then, his presence inside her mind.

How different it was from the brutal torture she had suffered earlier! Memories materialized in front of her and then disappeared instantly whenever he focused on them. It was a gentle caress, a blow of cold, fresh air inside her mind. She felt elated. No longer had she to fear darkness, she could embrace its touch, the forgiveness it brings, the mystique it offers. The Light was worthless. It left her alone. But the Shadow was always there. How many times did it overcome its eternal enemy? What would one more candle matter? She was alone, after all; alone in the darkness. They left her here! They have betrayed her! Memories came back to her and as they passed, she felt her anger grow.

- "General?! Brigitte?! Why did you forsake us?! Why did you forsake...me?!" - She saw herself, shouting at the night in the days after the fall of New Avalon. Abbendis left her; she fled to save her life. In the end, what did the Crusade matter? Alessia felt her heart ache

- "You spoke of a brighter future, of a Crimson Dawn. Where is it?! Did you find it?! Was it worth it?!" - Somehow she doubted it, just as she doubted shouting at this cold, uncaring stones would change anything - „You condemned us all to this hopeless and fearful existence." - She thought now, watching herself scream with frustration - „You shattered our will and what remained of our pride. It wasn't Datrohan's or Mograine's betrayal that hurt the most, but yours. You were our last hope. And where are you now?"

- "I will try to prepare the grounds for formal meeting. With Light's favor, the Argent Dawn shall agree to at least talk with us." - The memory changed, now she was riding off the gates of Tyr's Hand, supposedly on a diplomatic mission. Nobody believed it would change anything, though. After all, they were condemned. She saw once again faces of soldiers under her command, watching her from the walls. Willey, Beornas, Leopold... all the same. No hope, only bitterness. She never intended to return. To what? These fools, who have turned against themselves? Who now prayed for forgiveness and redemption? Who mutilated their own bodies, seeing it as a retribution for their so-called sins? Disgusting cult of misanthropes! She didn't want to have anything to do with those, who ruled Tyr's Hand now. That's why she left the city. Cowards, all of them! Let them rot in the stench of blood, pouring from their self-inflicted wounds!

- "And Galford, too. When he saw the archive, covered in flames, he didn't waste time. He rushed to save his beloved books. Nobody took any notice. He was burned alive." - It was Willey, who led the few survivors of the Argent Dawn's assault on Grand Crusader's stronghold in Stratholme back to Tyr's Hand and was now narrating the events, that unfolded in there. Allies? Companions? Bah, they wasted no time to turn against their compatriots, though there was always the notion of 'first and foremost combating the Scourge' on their lips. Where did the Argent Dawn find such reservoir of hate and hypocrisy to draw upon?! - „And they called us fanatics!" - She snapped in her mind. Even when Naxxramas floated above Plaguelands and dreaded Kel'Thuzad threatened to destroy them all, it was the Crusade that sent a diplomatic mission, not the Dawn. And those lectures, this condescending poses, the contempt they met at every turn... Alliance? Doing what it always did, watching and hoping for the best. Paralyzed by internal struggle, unable to do anything but sending their agents to do the Dawn's dirty work... The Horde? Please...

- "Go, run and hide! Hope that I will never meet you again, for I swear; if we do, it will be as enemies." - It was she confronting Dawnbringer once again. When did love turn into hate? She believed in him, his conviction and sense of righteousness. Why couldn't he see it? Why did he always have to take it personally, as his defeat at Abbendis' hands?! He was the first to deal her a true blow. From that night on, she never stopped doubting her decisions. She kept wondering, was he right when he left the Crusade? Was she wrong when she spared his life, exchanging it for Yana's? And then she met him again, as Tirion Fordring's second-in-command, during the Naxxramas crisis. When any minute without his spiteful remarks towards her seemed wasted to him.

- "In the Light we must put our faith. Alone, we would be nothing before the might that is the Scourge. But we are not alone! We have an ally greater than their dark magic, their unholy rites, their dreaded Lich King! With Light at our side, how could we lose?! March forward now, with bravery and trust in your hearts. Always for Lordaeron! Always with the Light! Charge!" - The time when she led the troops in the name of the greatest traitor. For she gave herself fully to the Light, as did the others within the Crusade. And what did she get in return? Death, that wasn't even the end of their earthly torment. False hope, brought before them and then brutally taken away and torn to pieces before their very eyes, time and again. Where were the Tenets when their cities burned? Their loved ones rose from their graves and turned against them? On their mouths and in their hearts, cold and indifferent, as always. - "I owe nothing to the Light!"

She was alone, always alone. Betrayed by everything she held dear, everything she looked up to. But now, she could turn the tables on them! Make them pay, one after another! Not revenge, but justice! Justice served cold on all those that had abused her, faked their friendship. Now she had a chance to fight back! The dark figure stepped away from her, nodding and making her way for the sword. She walked forward. The voices around her howled louder and louder and as she stretched her hand, they reached crescendo.

- "Is our pact sealed? Will you wield me to carve a bloody path to your destiny?" - It was the first time she heard his, or its, voice - „Will the wheel turn once more?"

- "Yes" - she said. For the first time in months, there was conviction in her voice

- "Then make them pay for what they did to you!"

- "Yes!" - She grabbed the sword's grip, feeling a cold, yet pleasant sensation in her hand, which started to spread across her body. She smiled, and it was a malicious smile, not dissimilar to the one that her captor bore on her lips. Her body trembled at the touch of cold, promising to quench her weakness, to cleanse her in the way only Shadow could. No more worries, no more setbacks, no more her old whiny self. Only conviction, only revenge. She wouldn't be led by fear any more, like she was in Stratholme...

* * *

Slowly, the sight returned. Yet, at the beginning all that Alessia could see were bright flames, clearly visible over the dark background of the sky. She tried to take a step forward, but she tripped over something. Somebody held her, preventing her from falling down.

- "You should sit down and wait till your eyes are up to business" - she heard someone say. She blinked several times. Slowly, her sight returned and she could make out new shapes emerging from the sea of brightness. Priests and paladins were sitting or falling down, whole day's fatigue finally catching up to them. For them at least, it was over. The ghastly task of cleansing Stratholme. The literal culling of the city. However, as for her... The events of this, all too long day suddenly returned to her. All of her wounds ached once again, she could feel every muscle in her body and each of them was burning with pain. She was so weary. And yet, the physical pain was the least of her problems. Now, that the clarity of her sight has returned, she could see the great pile of ash all too clearly. There, the people stood – the ones they killed. The ones she killed. And among them, her father. She couldn't even bear to cry anymore. The anger and self-loathing absorbed the last tidbits of her strength. She looked up, at the starry sky and mumbled pleas of forgiveness. There was no one who could answer them, however, and even no one, who would care to listen.

Abbendis was nowhere to be seen. Marjhan figured the general, deeming her work to be done now, just left. Whatever artificial life support system she bore in her chest to fill the empty void, where her heart used to be, it didn't feel the urge to stop and contemplate upon her actions. Unfortunately for Alessia, hers felt the comply to do so all too strong. Finally, the dam burst, giving way to a flood of tears, that flown from her eyes. She rubbed them with her hand, trying to dry them, but the only effect was the aching of eyeballs, sore from the dirt on her hand.

- "Don't stop the tears" - she heard someone speak mildly. She lifted her head and saw Dawnbringer standing by her, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Somehow, it only made her angrier, just as the words he spoke next - "We're all on the verge here."

- "My ass, you are!" - She snapped bitterly

- "We have all seen our friends, our family members turned into-"

- "Well, I'm sure as hell I didn't see anyone turn into anything!" - She answered - „I saw my father, murdered right before my eyes. Murdered by me, no less!"

- "I understand your anger, but you must-"

- "You understand nothing!" - The rage was overwhelming. Now, that she had someone she could fix it on, she lost all inhibitions. She stood up - "Did you lose anyone in here?!" - Elligor took a step back and raised his arms before his chest, as if to protect himself from her verbal attack

- "I really don't think you-"

- "Did you?!" - She didn't intend on backing down. In her heart, she knew that Dawnbringer was the least guilty of them all. But she didn't care. She wanted someone to be able to put the blame on, to be angry at; someone other than herself. He lowered his head

- "I didn't" - it was but a faint whisper

- "What? I couldn't hear anything!" - Marjhan held her hand by her ear. Elligor was about to say something, when he was stopped by the sudden outcry

- "By the Light's grace!"

They both turned towards appalled Brigitte Abbendis, who knelt by the gigantic pile of ash, along several of her men. She seemed to have been checking up on any potential survivors. From beneath the mound, several people slowly rose, shaking off the cinders. And then a couple of others in another place. Alessia looked towards them, feeling her heart beating, loud as a striking thunder. Then, there was elation, a sensation stronger than anything she has ever experienced, followed by more tears. This time, however, they were the sign of joy.

Not caring about anything or anyone, not hearing the words spoken by the General - "Against all hope, some must've avoided contracting the Plague. A miracle!" - She rushed forward.

Everyone watched her throw her arms around an elder man's torso, then hold him strongly. For the first time in many, many hours, they had an opportunity to smile. Even Abbendis had to lean against a nearby wall to prevent a fall. For a while, her face was also lightened by a faint smile. Her mouth moved, though she didn't utter any words loudly. Anything that could be said now would be dwarfed by Alessia's passionate exclamations

- "Thank be the Light! Thank be the Light!"


	18. Chapter 18

The cold sensation that had nearly overwhelmed her has suddenly subsided, giving way to the warmth of the memory. The moment that had defined her course, which had set the road before her. A single tear flown down her cheek and then fell into the darkness below her. Her lips were moving and she realized, that she was muttering the same words she did in Stratholme, all those years ago

- "Thank be the Light!" - Abandoned? Her captor wanted her to feel that way and she fell for it so easily. But... The darkness, the Shadow was so strong! The Light she believed in was all but extinguished. There was no hope anymore; it was lost to them that day on the walls of Tyr's Hand. When she had witnessed Pureblood's demise.

- "You saw nothing!" - A sharp, hissing voice of the dark figure seemed to come from all around her - "I was there too, remember? In the hands of an all-too-eager death knight. Watch and make your mind" - and she received another vision.

* * *

- "Victory!" - An overjoyed shout came out of Alaris' mouth as he descended upon his helpless victims. The frost wyrm, a towering, undead dragon he was mounting, swooped upon the Scarlet soldiers, quenching their life with his frost breath. A multitude of beasts circled above the ranks of their enemies, tearing down all opposition. Crusaders, unable to mount any defense against such mass of airborne monstrosities, were slaughtered. Alaris laughed as he jumped off his steed and drew his sword. The terrifying weapon circled through the air, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind. There was no one, who could stand against him now. They were too terrified. They stood before their doom and they knew it perfectly well. Their backbone has been crushed. Now, it was just a matter of mopping up the remains.

The other death knights soon joined in, preferring to wreak havoc with their own hands and experience the slaughter first-hand. Alaris stood beside Darion Mograine himself, when he cut through the ranks of the Scarlets with his fearsome blade. Far to the south, behind the mass of ghouls, zombies and other lesser undead, laid Tyr's Hand. A safe haven for the puny remnants of the Scarlet Crusade, so close and yet, too far. Alaris laughed with joy. This heat of battle, the woe he brought upon his enemies, the satisfaction of his dark master he felt in the depths of his soul – it was marvelous! Nothing could ever come close to this! He cackled when he slashed a Scarlet soldier's legs, making him kneel and finished him off by impaling his head on his sword. He then raised his blade and roared, joined soon by his compatriots of all known races. Their victory was complete.

Then, the horns sounded, and a volley of arrows and bullets fell upon them. The Scarlets suddenly drew up in formation and advanced forward, heading towards the unliving mass of bodies that separated them from their comrades within the nearby city. The rear guard turned around, trying desperately to hold their ground against gaunt executioners of the Lich King and give their friends just enough time to escape. Weak fools! All of this was for nothing, for Mograine and his guard soon broke though their line with but a few casualties. Then, those death knights that remained airborne struck right into the middle of enemy formation, splintering it and opening way for another attack. With another sound of their horn, Scarlets dispersed in several smaller groups, hoping that the undead wouldn't be able to follow them. Alaris summoned his frost wyrm. Mighty bone dragon landed beside him, raising a cloud of dust into the air. The death knight then spurred his mount and sent him after the escapees, followed soon by others. They enjoyed the slaughter again, massing upon their victims, but they soon found out, that the Scarlets had succeeded, if only partially. They couldn't intercept all those groups in time. Some would make it back to safety. But no matter! The death toll of this day would leave the enemy broken forever, unable to mount any sort of resistance.

Then, a hateful cry of his master sounded within the recesses of Alaris' mind. He looked around to find the source of the mighty Lich King's anger, as did the others. On the hill, not far from them to the west, too close to the city's walls, a group of Scarlet horsemen that broke through the mass of the Scourge unfolded a large banner.

- "Wretched scum!" - barked Alaris angrily, for upon the crimson banner, apart from the white 'L' - the Crusade's symbol, was a ruby drop of blood surrounded by blazing, golden flames. It was a personal banner of High Commander Galvar Pureblood. The enemy leader managed to break through their lines. Frustrated, Alaris made the frost wyrm turn in the direction of this small group and fly forward. Others flew by him; he saw Thuliss and Nightraven by his side. On the ground, Darion Mograine along with Thassarian remained still, watching the foe, who has outwitted them with a mixture of hatred, rage and a grudging respect. Suddenly, with a cry, that Alaris heard even so far in the air, Pureblood mustered his horse and went on to charge. He lost his mind! He went straight back at them! Maybe he wished to kill as many of his foes as he could before falling to their weapons? Who cared? Either way, he was theirs.

- "I want him!" - They all heard their master's voice in their minds, and they saw the mass of mindless undead rush at this lone rider, the newest desire of their King - "Grand reward awaits the one, who claims his life for me!"

Alaris smiled menacingly and joined the others in a race for their prize. He unsheathed his sword. Just a little faster and he will reach his foe before them!

Then, just as they were to surround him, the rider dismounted and raised his sword. Pure, golden flame sprang from the blade. Suddenly, they stopped. The aura of holiness radiating from this lone man was so intense, that they couldn't move. However, it won't last long

- "You will be mine" - Arthas' voice sounded over the battlefield, clearly heard by all - "Such a bright light to extinguish, a rare treat. And with another one awaiting me so soon, this will be a grand day!"

Pureblood remained motionless, his gaze sternly fixed at Darion Mograine, who calmly returned it. The force with which the High Commander wielded the Light was something not met within the corrupt ranks of the Scarlet Crusade, but he couldn't hope to challenge them all. He was no Ashbringer, after all. Alas, he didn't intend to. In spite of all that has happened and was about to happen, in spite of the dreadful ranks of his enemies surrounding him, in spite of the gruesome fate that awaited him, Galvar Pureblood laughed. Wind blown, making his cape flow behind his back

- "We could have won this day, but you robbed us of our victory! Allow me to repay you in kind! Behold, traitor king and behold you, puny slaves of his will! So passes the last High Commander of the Scarlet Crusade!" - And in an instant, he was engulfed in golden flames.

- "Noooooo!" - The dreadful cry of their master filled them with anger. Yet, there was nothing they could do. One of the death knights on the ground sprang forward and the next second, he was incinerated. Not even ash remained; no burnt scraps of armor – Galvar Pureblood was no more; the Light engulfed him, denying the Lich King his prize. But it was no mere defiance that drove the High Commander to this desperate move

- "The other groups!" - shouted Mograine. Heeding their leader's call, all of the undead focused on the lone knight, abandoning their former targets. With disbelief, Alaris saw the Scarlets – maybe as much as a third of Pureblood's initial forces – hasten towards the gates of Tyr's Hand, now waiting open for them. Alaris screamed with frustration and anger, watching the refugees reach the safety of city's walls...

...And the point of view shifted. Alessia was back on the walls of Tyr's Hand, broken after the High General's escape. She saw the refugees enter the city, but for her, it was but a sad remnant of a broken army returning from the fields of a lost battle. Most of the enemy forces charged onward, but with a signal from captain Willey, the artillery was unleashed. Cannonballs, catapult stones, ballista arrows – all they could gather was sent at their enemy. The area before the walls became a death zone. Tyr's Hand survived many attacks of the Scourge and no blind rush at its walls could break it. As the incendiary rounds fell upon the places, where streams of oil flown, forming the lines of city's defense, the flames appeared, surrounding the city with several circles of raging fire. The undead marched forward still, and soon the bowslingers joined in. During all that time, the Scarlet headquarters became well supplied with weapons and ammunition. Every soldier and citizen, who could wield a bow or crossbow was given one and placed upon the city walls. The Scourge minions died in hundreds, in thousands.

Still, they advanced forward, and with the support of their death knight leaders and the undead dragons, they might have won the day completely, though paying high price for it. However, their master was probably satisfied with the slaughter unleashed on that day, or he had something else in his plans and needed his forces intact. And so, the Scourge deserted the battlefield. Save one. A single frost wyrm with an undead rider on its back hurried towards the walls. On the order of the captain, the section of the battlements it approached was emptied, leaving only one man behind. Cannon Master himself stood there, alone before incoming monster. In his arm, he held his rifle, a terrifying, scoped weapon, made by ingenious dwarves of Ironforge before the Third War. Unmoved, he reached for his pocket and picked a single bullet from it. The projectile, small and round, was pure white in color, radiating inner glow. The orb of righteousness, the trademark of the Crusade, a device crafted for the purpose of channeling the Light by those, who lost the ability to summon it by themselves. With his eyes fixed on the approaching dragon, Willey dropped the bullet into his gun's barrel. Then, terrifyingly slowly, he raised the rifle and looked through the scope. The beast was close by, its mighty jaws open wide, with unholy frost gathering inside, almost ready to be unleashed...

And then a single shot right into the inside of this gaping maw, a bright glow and in an instant, the skeletal dragon burst into a rain of bones that fell on the ground. Drake's rider, still propelled forward, hit the wall with such a force, that he disappeared in a cloud of blood, meat, metal and dust. Nobody cheered, though many watched Willey with awe when he started to walk down from the wall. After all, the day was lost and many have died. That a fraction survived was no victory, merely a tragedy put back for some time.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

"Or so I thought" - she said absent-mindedly - "But he defied him. A mere human was able to snatch the prize away from Lich King's grasp!" - The cruel cackle made her look around. As always, the dark figure was somewhere nearby; she could feel its presence, but not see it.

- "If that is what you would like to see, then you're a fool." - The high-pitched, slithery voice hissed - "That day, the victory could have been yours. With the help of General Abbendis' troops, Galvar Pureblood could've turned the day. But she cowered before the Lich King's might. She ran away, convinced, that all was lost. And you... you have fallen."

- "You showed me this only to dwell upon me now?!" - The darkness around her seemed to deepen, as did the cold embrace upon her heart. She felt fear grow within her, its paralyzing clutches reaching forward to quench what remained of her defiance.

The mysterious soul of the blade laughed - "How easy it is, to make you step back. Your valor didn't last long, did it? You are willful, but fearful as well. And good." - it added, when Alessia lowered her head - "For here, you're within my power. For the foe you face is terrifying indeed. In the face of such opposition how can you triumph? Only by accepting me."

- "And who are you when compared to him? How should you help me turn the tide?"

Once more, a mocking cackle - "You ask me, who am I? What is the name of the fel spirit that inhabits this blade? I was once something much more, yet I didn't bow down before my old master and this sword was meant by him as my eternal prison... What a fool he has become!"

For some time there was silence, the dark spirit brooded upon some unknown thoughts or memories. Alessia was on the brink. When her torture, these never-ending games upon her mind, the dwelling upon her defeats and her weakness seemed to finally end, she stumbled into this torment. Whatever the unknown malevolent presence within the blade wanted, it was strong enough to achieve it; Marjhan had no doubt about it. It was so strong... she almost felt physical pressure of all the blackness around her. And those screams! The seeped fear into her mind, as if she didn't already have enough of it. It was always this cowardice that driven her, more so than her sense of duty, her will or her righteousness. And now, she was about to submit once more.

- "You wished to know my name, runt? Very well!" - And as he spoke it, Alessia felt her blood turn into ice. She never met him, of course, for how could she? Yet, she heard the stories. There was no hope now for her, all she could do was beg for a quick end to this.

- "Oh no, it won't be so easy. I think you will remain here for quite some time. My choir shall welcome a fresh, vigorous voice with so much anguish!" - he answered

- "Just kill me, please! Destroy me now and do what you want with my body! You don't need me for this! Just, please, take me away from this darkness!"

- "You are pathetic! Yet... whatever you wish!" - he said - "If you agree to do as I desire, if you follow my wish and help me bring back my power, I shall consider sparing your life."

- "B-but..."

- "You don't have an option to bargain. Either way, you're damned! I am at least so merciful as to grant you one last choice in your life – accept my blade and wield my power against those, who have wronged you, though in pursuit of the means of my return or wither and die. You can of course try to challenge me" - he stopped talking for a second, and the pressure upon Alessia's mind grown. All light suddenly vanished, she became lost in this dark void, alone, with anguished voices surrounding her, seeping madness and pain.

- "Look into what you face. In the eye of your doom!" - She heard his sharp whisper, just beside her ear. And then, the sea of darkness was right before her. Suddenly, the image flashed before her mind. She was falling through the soil of the Plaguelands, immaterial, ghostly figure, strapped of its mortal shell. Then she was in the hall of some ancient building, the sea of utter blackness just before her, and within, something moved. She felt a presence, watching her and she desperately wanted it to go away. Even the supernatural senses of her undead form were dimmed by the utter blackness that was before her and now rose to surround her.

- "No!" - She screamed, but no voice left her throat. Then it all encompassed her.

And then she was once more within the sight of the sword and its dark master. This was something different.

- "It was the memory of your tormentor. The penultimate horror she now serves. The being that allowed her to shed her ghostly form and recreate her old body. When your minds touched, this tiny bit of her memory slipped into your mind. Now, this is what awaits you if you return there without my help. The darkness, that is unbound, that will quench every last bit of your sanity. The primal scream, that won't leave your throat." – whispered the nefarious spirit of the blade.

- "You know of it?"

- "I know of a great many things and I've studied the blight upon this land intensively in my time here. It runs much deeper, than Ner'Zhul and his new host believe. They think themselves masters here, bah!"

- "What is it?"

- "You want to know? You want to find out more about this darkness?"

- "No! Don't tell me! I don't want anything to do with it!"

- "And very wise, for it would destroy you. As shall I, if you dare to defy me again! Now take me and let me protect you from its grasp." - There was his irresistible power and there was this darkness, this boundless... thing he showed her, the primal scream unshouted. She was nothing before them, she could only relent. The only thing driving her forward now was fear. If to shed it would mean to abandon herself to the blade, she would gladly do it. She reached once more...

* * *

And she was back in Tyr's Hand, in the forge, where her armor was waiting for her. She came here straight from the meeting of Scarlet high command, where the fate of Elligor Dawnbringer was sealed. The master smith led her directly to the main room, where her attire was placed on a mannequin. She came closer to inspect it and she gasped loudly. It was beyond beautiful! The ornate armor, painted in red, black and gold, was menacing and radiating with a sense of purity and righteousness at the same time. Every detail was attended to; there wasn't a single spot on it, that wasn't decorated with some engraving or inscription.

- "An armor most befitting you" - she turned around to see Brigitte Abbendis, leaning against the doorway in her simple garment. Alessia looked around the room, but master smith was nowhere to be found. She gazed at the High General, not knowing, what to suspect from her

- "M'lady?" - she asked.

Abbendis shrugged and sighed - „It was an honor to have you as my aide, Alessia. I know I'm not an easiest person to get along with" - that was putting it extremely mildly, yet Marjhan was dumbstruck. Did she come to apologize? No, her leader didn't seem to know what an apology is in the first place, let alone to ever consider using it. -"„The dark clouds are gathering. Something's coming. I can feel it in my gut. And I want you to be prepared. I know you didn't agree with me in many things, yet you've always carried out my orders. Are you going to follow them now as well?" - Alessia didn't say anything. She just bent her head down.

- "I see. Know that I share your disdain of Yana Bloodspear." - Marjhan looked at her with suspicion in her eyes. Was she being tested? General was an utter fanatic and she was known to test her soldiers from time to time, checking if they didn't abandon the one, true path even in the slightiest. But Abbendis, seemingly oblivious to her gaze, carried on.

- "She mocks everything we stand for. Not only she doesn't kneel before the Holy Light, she doesn't seem to waste a single opportunity to show her disdain for the faithful. She wields the shadow in her battles and revels in death and destruction. We do things, that another person would call atrocities, but only when it is necessary. We inflict pain and suffering, but only to the perpetrators and the vile undead! On the other hand, she always seeks a new chance to kill and maim. She is an abomination!" - Abbendis shouted in her fury. Marjhan was appalled

- "Yet, the Grand Crusader protects her from me. Even Isillien, in all of his holiness, seems to accept her methods. Until now, she was virtually out of reach. But now-" - here Brigitte broke off, letting her voice slowly slide into silence. She simply shook her head. Alessia was in a deep shock. She didn't know what to think about all this.

- "Whatever you do, I will back you up. From this moment, you are no longer my aide. I have taught you all I could and you've made me proud. Just don't expect me to ever repeat those words." - Abbendis spoke, as if a bit ashamed of herself. She then shrugged and turned around, disappearing in the corridor, while the master smith and two of his students entered the room to help Alessia don her armor.

- "Believe in your Judgment. Do not bring a shame unto the Crusade. And have faith in yourself, Commander!" - She heard the General's voice, until it died down.

* * *

It was once more, here before her eyes. This moment, when she wore the armor for the first time, when she felt proud, as never before in her life, and to think about it, never again in the future. Why did she let it fade away? Why did she let it be overshadowed by all this brooding upon her downfalls? She felt a sudden rush of anger. The darkness was strong, true. It was invincible; she couldn't ever hope to challenge it. But how could she run away? She did it all too often and did it help? Every time, she only fell deeper into despair. How easily she judged the others! How eager she was to burden them with her failures!

The breastplate was the first – an intricate cuirass modeled, so that it would fit her perfectly, with an ornament of Lion upon it – the symbol of the Grand Alliance. While the ones, who bore the Lion's banner now distanced themselves from the Crusade, could they really conceal the truth? After all these were the Scarlets that now embodied the valiant ideals of the first Alliance – the defense of humankind against all dangers, both internal and external. Was it not the leaders of Stromgarde, Gilneas and Kul Tiras, who in their eagerness wished to remove the orcish filth once and for all from the face of Azeroth? Was it not General Turalyon, who has sentenced the battered remnants of Blackrock Clan to death after the fall of Lord Lothar? As the golden hooks on her back were fastened and she turned her body to confirm, that the breastplate offered her a proper freedom of movement, both students of the master smith proceeded to grab the next part of the armor.

"To trust my judgment, she told me. How could I trust it when all it says is that I'm the one, who should be judged?! How can I lead the battle, when I failed them all? I viewed the others as traitors but am I really any different? I let the people of Stratholme be incinerated; I let Elligor crawl away, neither willing to stop him, nor to truly back him up. I watched, helpless, as Pureblood's forces are torn to shreds, unable to act in any way. I let Fellen take over the Crusade, not willing to take the lead. And finally, I ran away from them and then surrendered first before the sorceress and now, before this darkness. I'm a coward!"

Both leg protectors were surprisingly flexible. She could bend her legs with ease but at the same time, they offered protection from virtually any weapon, providing it is not of similarly fine craftsmanship or used with inhuman strength. Alessia didn't know what were those greaves made of, but they were comfortable and light. She guessed mithril or truesilver were involved in their creation, with the outward layer of some even tougher material. It was rather clear that the armor wasn't of Crusade's own design; rather it was either salvaged by them and then maintained to remain in proper condition or it was some relic of ancient alliances with dwarves of Khaz Modan. Maybe it was crafted for some famous paladin of the Silver Hand? If that was the case, she doubted its original owner would mind her wearing it now, however insignificant she was when compared to him. After all, weren't the Scarlet Crusaders true descendants of the old order?

"So what?! Awaken already! How long are you going to condemn the others? And how long are you going to brood upon your own failures? They don't have to set the road before you – if you go on with this, then you are nothing but an idiot!" – "But can I really forget? Can I pretend that nothing happened and go forth, just like that?"

Then she lifted her legs, one after the other, and they placed mighty sabatons upon them. Two feet protectors were much like the greaves, for their weight was surprisingly low, but they were just as tough as any other armor piece, if not tougher. Once the boots were fastened, the smith's helpers double-checked all of her lower armor to make sure its components fitted not only her body, but also each other. There was no need, however, as there wasn't a single spot that wasn't covered by the plate mail. Satisfied with that, they told her to stretch her arms horizontally.

"You can't avoid those questions; it would be the greatest mistake you could make! To forget about your past is to let all the knowledge you acquired from your previous mistakes slip away and be forgotten. But there is a difference between remembering the past to learn from it and letting it drive you. If it's the latter you're interested in, then I propose you return to Tyr's Hand and get yourself a whip."

The arm protectors were of black coloration. Here and there, Alessia noticed a red string, thin and intricately woven around the axis of the round armor piece. From a distance, they were practically invisible and she had to look very closely to make them out. However, once she gazed even deeper into them, she gasped. What looked like simple patterns of color, were actually dozens of names, written with so tiny letters and so close together, that they seemed one stripe of scarlet on the hypnotizing, black background. "Halahk the Lifebringer, Gavinard Dire, Uther the Lightbringer" – she read the names. Those, who fell in service of Lordaeron. She glanced over the writing, recognizing more and more names, some of them of normal soldiers, others – great heroes and aristocrats. One name, however made her stop for a while. Jared Marjhan. She never knew what happened to her brother that night so long ago in Stratholme, and she was probably never going to find it out. She could only hope that wherever he was now, he was at peace. She stared at the window and the rainy clouds outside and prayed without speaking – "May the Light carry you on, to the better life. May you look upon me from Beyond and be proud of me; let the Light give me power and will to be worthy of your pride."

"Betrayers? Find them and make them pay. Or forgive them, whatever. Obstacles? Overcome them. If you receive a blow, don't cry – return it! If you were mistreated – well, make them treat you better! If you fail, if you let them down, correct your mistakes. You are of the Scarlet Crusade! You knew what you've signed up for!"

Then they took a long cloth to put upon her armor. It was similar to a robe, covering her chest and then falling down, like a wide dress. Though intricate, it was probably studded with leather, as it didn't flow and seemed quite sturdy. Its colors were black, red and white – to depict the blackness of their enemies' hearts, the Scarlet Crusade and the purity of the Holy Light along with their goal – the restoration of Lordaeron. Once both smith's helpers put the gown onto her, they placed upon her two ornate shoulderguards. Vaguely triangular in shape, they were of a deep-golden color. Upon them, there was an intricate carving of an open book, on which laid a dagger, pointing down. Both of these could actually be reached by her and, upon saying the proper words, removed to serve as a last-resort weapon, blessed by the Light. Once more, the attention to detail was remarkable, as the words of two prayers of the Crimson Dawn were engraved upon the books, under the respective daggers they were used to detach from the armor.

"If it's the fear that drives you, the fear of the darkness, then make the most of it! No matter what your incentive is, if it helps you gather your strength, if it helps you reach out for what you believe in! If the price of victory is fear, then you don't really have a choice – deal with it, let it guide you forward, use it! Just don't let it consume you!"

Two golden gloves were given her and she put them on herself. First, the right one. Apart from a small but sturdy chain that she could attach to her weapon to hinder any attempts to disarm her, it also bore an inscription upon its inner side – "Post noctis institutum, dies emerget" – "After the night passes, the day is born" Next, she put on the left one – and her eyes widened as she read its inscription, for it was her own family's motto. Seems General Abbendis had really thought it all out.

"Many of your friends betrayed you, but that is neither the only nor the most important thing they've done. The Light was always there with you, with the Crusade – only you lacked the courage to act upon its guidance! A long list of enemies you have, true! Did you really expect they will curl up and die, just like that? Take them down, one after another! You were attacked, your home was destroyed, your loved ones – killed. Justice demands retribution! Feel the righteous anger and let it enhance your resolve, feel the fear that has driven you for so long, and let it strengthen your will. You cannot fail or they shall slip away and the darkness shall fall upon you. Walk through this fire and let it purify you, incent your inner flames. Remember the Tenets and go forth! What were the words engraved upon your glove? The words your family lived their lives upon? That is who you are, what you have to do! Do you remember?!"

Finally, they gave her the helmet. She held it in her hands as they've checked all the joints and mobile elements of her attire. It was modeled after a cowl, within which lied a hidden face. The overall effect was quite ominous. The inner light seemed to radiate from within the helmet's eye-sockets. Slowly, she turned it around.

– "Are you ready, Commander Marjhan?" – Yana Bloodspear stood in the entryway – "The General told me I'll find you here."

Without hesitation, Marjhan put on the helmet. – "I am." – And once more she took a look upon her left glove.

"Per igni ad victoria!"

* * *

She gripped the handle of the sword. The shadows around her seemed to lessen a bit and the anguished voices quieted down. They felt the Light rise within her, burning with just anger.

– "So, you choose defiance after all. A pity. It seems I will have to add your soul to my collection and claim your body as my own." – she heard the hiss of the weapon's owner. She knew she couldn't possibly hope to defeat him, were he in his true form. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't.

– "The deal still stands." – she said, hoping that her voice wouldn't betray just how much afraid she was. – "But its terms have changed! You can try to destroy me, but I'm afraid you won't face me at my weakest point, cowering with fear of your mere presence. You will submit your blade to me and help me create my destiny. And then… I will help you restore your old self."

– "You want to bargain with me?!" – he seemed more amused than offended – "For a long time I haven't seen anyone quite like you. Probably since the time, that…" – he mused for a while, then after a pause, he carried on – "Very well, young one. However puny and insignificant your defiance is, you have a deal. But know this – better watch your back, for if I find you useless you won't live long enough to even regret it. Pray it won't happen when you need me the most." – he cackled.

She braced herself and took a deep breath then said – "Right back onto you. Now, send me back!"

– "Whatever you wish…"

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

For the world outside, the time was still while she conversed with the spirit inside the blade. In an instant, it started running forward and Alaris' rage turned into terror as Marjhan grabbed his runeblade. In one second, the holy energy poured from her hand and swept away the twisted runes engraved upon the sword's surface. The blade burned with roaring, white-gold flames, though there was a thin stripe of utter blackness right in its middle.

– "How?" – Was all Alaris managed to say, before Alessia cut his head off.

– "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" – Shouted Armelos

– "Correcting the worst mistake his mother ever made, I believe" – answered Alessia

– "You bitch!" – The elven death knight was ready to attack her, but his white-haired companion grabbed his arm

– "Kirtonos first" – he said

– "Leave him to me!" – said Marjhan – "And better run, while you can!"

– "You arrogant bastard! Who do you think you are?!" – Alessia didn't bother answering.

She had her eyes fixed on Kirtonos, who distanced himself from the members of the Ebon Blade and was slowly approaching her. She grabbed the bastard sword with both her hands and held it above her head, pointed at her opponent. She took a deep breath. It wasn't going to be easy. The Herald was known to send warriors much better than she was to the afterlife. Yet, he didn't seem too eager to attack either. He kept on circling her, maintaining his distance. Slowly, he bent down and picked up two curved swords from the remnants of fallen skeletal warriors. Alessia corrected her grip on the sword.

And he was right at her, covering the distance between them in a split second and unleashing a barrage of blows. She did her best to avoid his slices and cuts, but she was too weary after the long torture to keep doing this for long. She had to turn the tables on him. She slashed furiously making him jump back, and then she thrust her sword into the ground. Kirtonos leapt right back at her with both of his swords, but she was faster. She grabbed his wrists and pulled forwards, then turned around and released him, throwing him up into the air. He vanished in an instant, changing back to his gargoyle form and swooped back at her. She turned to pick up her blade but the Herald was faster. He grabbed her with his claws with a strength that almost ripped off her arms and lifted her up into the air.

- "Idiot! She should have known he would be too fast to let her pick up her sword!" – said Armelos, but his companion remained silent.

Meanwhile, Alessia and Kirtonos were struggling in the air. The Herald soon found out, that maybe his opponent was exactly in the place she wanted to be, as she grabbed his leg with one hand, reaching for her own shoulder with the other.

- "The holy blood of the children of the Alabaster Crown was spilt on its soil, staining it bright scarlet." – she started reciting.

– "But the children have not backed down; they rose to aid their beloved mother" – the gargoyle turned mid-air and swooped back towards the ground.

– "It is through their zeal and their faith and the blood they will pour onto her to cleanse her from the suffering and dread that was inflicted upon her, that she will be restored" – Kirtonos released his hold on her, but she still kept on gripping his leg. The ground was getting closer.

– "Her innocence forever lost, yet her will strengthened and her beauty regained, such will be our mother when the final day comes. The Crimson Dawn!" – and she detached the dagger from her shoulderpad.

It became a beam of pure Light, shining with brightest of glows and making both death knights on the grounds turn their heads away. Kirtonos himself was blinded and pained by the mere presence of such a vengeful sanctified object and he soon found out that he could no longer control his flight. With a shout, Marjhan stabbed him with the dagger and released her hold when they were flying just above the ground. She tumbled on the plagued soil, hitting several tree branches in the process and bruising her face. She slowly rose, her right leg hurting terribly. Yet, her enemy was in even worse condition. They watched him try to rise to the air once more but ultimately he failed, crashing down onto the ground. His painful scream was cut short by the white-haired death knight, who decapitated the monster with his sword.

Alessia poured the holy energy into her leg, lessening the pain and then went to pick up her blade. As she pulled it from the ground, two death knights approached her.

- "Impressive" – Said the white-haired one – "It seems that the rumors of Crusade's ultimate demise were exaggerated. I'm glad of this."

Alessia's eyebrow went up – "You are?"

– "Well, we can have our differences but an important thing is that we both share a common goal-" – The knight never had a chance to further explore on the subject as Alessia struck him down with one, swift blow. Armelos reached for his sword but he screamed in pain when Marjhan cut off his arm.

– "You self-righteous bastard! Fanatic! Intolerant bitch-" – An impressive amount of curses was all that the elf managed to say, before Scarlet Commander ended his unlife as well.

Alessia knelt by his body and picked up his cloak. She then wrapped it around the runeblades, both Armelos' and his late companion's. Suddenly, she became still and turned her head slightly

– "I don't suppose I can convince you to… accept my hospitality in return?" – she asked.

Her captor sat on her deathsteed's back and ate an apple, which somehow infuriated Alessia even more.

– "I think I'll pass." – she said between two bites, then she pointed at white-haired knight's body.

– "Not too keen on redemption, are you?" – she asked

– "On the contrary. Just not too keen on undeath, I'm afraid"- answered Marjhan. The girl took another bite, and then threw the fruit away.

– "Well then" – she said – "As a perfectly alive and healthy person, I don't have anything to worry about!"

– "Don't insult me!" – barked Alessia – "I said I know who you are. It would be an easy guess even without seeing the crest on that corset you are wearing underneath your robe. By all accounts you should not only be dead, but also transparent and immaterial. Does the fact that you were able to create yourself a new body have anything to do with the darkness I saw within your memory?"

For a second, the smirk on the girl's face disappeared, but she quickly recomposed.

– "I must say, I feel insulted!" – she exclaimed

– "You were supposed to look at these, not what's below them!" – she said, pointing at her chest – "Oh well, I guess there' no use hiding my true nature anymore!" – The last words were said with a deep, echoing voice.

– "Behold!" – she screamed – "The ultimate horror!" – The booming sound of her speech made Alessia cover her ears. Sorceress' whole body disappeared in a pillar of purple flames, which suddenly rose from the ground around her. Bright, silver lightning circled around the column that enveloped the girl. Dust rose from the ground. Alessia readied her sword.

Slowly, the mystic energy dissipated, revealing the being hidden within it. Marjhan lowered her blade. She was furious. Before her, her tormentor, who looked exactly the same as before, sat on her steed, busy with cleaning the blood that poured from her broken nose with a handkerchief. Alessia shouted with frustration. She channeled the Light and hurled it at the sorceress in a bolt of golden flames. The girl didn't seem to notice it until it was right at her, when she casually waved her hand, making a shadowy tentacle spring from the ground and intercept the holy bolt. Both disappeared in a flash.

The magician yawned – "Please, you are too exhausted. Did you really think you could strike me with such a flickering flame?" – she looked at Alessia – "Save your strength for the voyage home."

– "Not going to try and carry out your mission?" – asked the Ccusader.

- "No. You're weakened, but so am I. It would either end in a draw or carry on for who knows how long until luck decides who the winner is. Nonetheless, it would be extremely tiresome." – she sighed

– "It's a pity. But remember, Scarlet Commander, I will have you yet. After all, I promised you pain beyond your comprehension. Who would I be to back off from such a lovely arrangement?" – she threw something to Alessia. Her helmet.

It fell on the ground near the paladin's feet. Alessia bent down and picked it up. When she rose, the girl was gone. Marjhan put on her helmet, then proceeded to pick up all the death knights' swords and wrap Armelos' cloak around them. She still had to backtrack a little and free her charger from the undercroft she was imprisoned in and then… home awaited.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

The Scarlet Basilica in Tyr's Hand was filled with people. The greatest temple in the Northlands echoed with chants, praising the Holy Light and praying for its forgiveness. Each believer was bare from his waist up and carried a whip made of thick rope. If one would look closely, he would've noticed many dark-red stains on the marble floor of the church. The burning incense had something… invigorating within. The smoke that filled the massive chamber exhilarated the believers and enhanced their senses. They sang with all the strength their throats possessed.

A man was kneeling before the altar. His hair, moustache and beard were grey, but his eyes were stern; his body – hardened and more used to the armor than long, woolen robes he was wearing now; his hands – strong. Crusader Lord Vraldemar, ruler of Tyr's Hand – for it was he, who is so described – wasn't singing as others did, but murmuring some intelligible words. His head was bent down; his eyes – closed. After a while – as the singers reached crescendo – he raised his face and looked at the man standing behind the altar.

Self-appointed Bishop Fellen, the religious leader of Tyr's Hand and a man, who established the new flagellant regime, nodded. Vraldemar unfastened the upper part of his robe and let it fall to the ground, so that his back became exposed. One could see more than several scars on the elder man's body – most of them quite recent. Fallen raised his hand. The crowd became silent.

– "Children!" – he exclaimed – "The time has come, once more, for us to show our humility and reverence of the Light. We will express our gratitude to this divine power that continues to guide us, even though our sins are many!"

He started walking around the altar, still talking – "So many that in its wisdom, the Light sent a divine retribution to shatter our false pride. For we believed that with the strength of our arms we could defeat the demons, which have invaded our lands. How folly were we!"

The bishop now stood behind the kneeling Vraldemar – "For only the light may deliver us from the depths of depravity we brought upon ourselves! Let us show it, how much we appreciate its gifts!"

On those words, the people within the Basilica reached for their whips.

– "Let us wash away our sins, so that when the Light blesses us again, we will be ready!" – the bishop reached for the whip strapped to his belt and turned to the kneeling man

– "Pray, Lord Vraldemar, for your sins are grave and only the punishment by my hand may purge them. Have your faith in the Light!" – he said, raising the whip.

* * *

A fortified terrace above the western gate of Tyr's Hand was one of the few places on the walls that provided shelter from the snow. Scarlet Captain Willey leaned against the battlements, staring into the darkness before him. Only several small spots of light defied the winter night around them. The watchfires maintained by several soldiers unfortunate enough to draw a short straw during today's lottery. Normally, everyone would do anything in his power to avoid such a post, but tonight, he almost envied them.

- "On the hills, the fires burn at midnight, superstition fills the air; Sparks fly high, the fires burn at midnight, stars are out and magic is here." – he remembered an old song, popular in the older, happier Lordaeron. They would sing it while dancing around great bonfires during the Midsummer Fire and colorful ribbons would be hurled in the air.

- "Reciting Holy Tenets, are you, captain?" – Deep, mocking voice heralded the arrival of Scarlet Captain Beornas. Muscular, red-bearded man held two large mugs in his hands. Delicate vapor brought an unmistakable smell of hot mead. New arrival handed Willey one of the mugs.

– "Funny thing – I noticed that you decided to avoid participating in tonight's ceremony. As before. And before that…" – he started talking.

- "Spare me. I don't see you, praising the glory of the Punishing Light in the Basilica, either." – Willey cut him short.

- "Well, that's obviously because I noticed you walking away and had to check it out" – Beornas winked seeing Willey's tormented expression – "Lighten up a bit, you're not alone"

– "Well yes, obviously, you're here as well" – said Willey, sipping his beverage; his companion chuckled.

– "You know what I mean" – he said – "All the officers suddenly seem to have better things to do than attending the ceremony. Soldiers, too! Even standing guard in this blizzard seems lesser of two evils."

– "Really?!" – one could clearly feel more than a hint of sarcasm in Willey's voice – "Tell me then, why is Fellen and his gang of bullies running things? Why do we let them whip Vraldemar and the others in this mockery of a religion?! Why won't we stir the soldiers and move against the Scourge; boiling here in our own blood instead?!"

Beornas stood silent for a while, before he sighed and answered.

– "Because we have no answers. None of us knows what to do. The last defeat… the slaughter at New Avalon… it was too much, Willey." – he drank the last drops of his mead, then threw the mug away – "I'm tired. From the beginning, it's one disaster after another. Every time we seem to patch things up a little, something comes, totally out of the blue, and sends us back where we began. Mograine? Betrayed and murdered. Datrohan's assault on Stratholme? Turns out he's a demon. We ally ourselves with the Dawn and make a stand against Kel'Thuzad himself? They manage to somehow lose his phylactery. Abbendis rallies us again after Naxxramas has departed? A battalion of death knights appears out of nowhere and massacres us while the general flees to the location unknown… As if there was some infernal overlord, ruling our world and finding great pleasure in toying with us. I'm tired of it Willey, and you're tired as well. People can see this. And if their leaders lack the strength and resolve, so do their underlings. In present circumstances, Fellen is the only one, who actually seems to believe in something and people follow him because there is no one else to follow!"

Suddenly, Willey chuckled – "Just listen to us. Whining like some old hags. But I'm afraid you're right. In the end it's enough for us to be indifferent to all this. How do you reckon, which of us will be the first to 'repent for his sins' at good bishop's feet?"

Beornas didn't bother answering; he just kept on staring into the night.

– "Did our guards move or are my eyes playing tricks on me?" – he suddenly asked.

Willey gazed into the distance – "Now, when you're telling this… Yes, the lights are coming closer."

Two men watched three small torch flames approach the gate. As they neared, the officers noticed that torch-bearing riders from the guard posts surrounded a fourth person, though they couldn't discern any details.

- "Open the gate!" – One of the guards exclaimed as the group reached its destination – "Commander Marjhan wishes to enter the city!"

- "Hold it!" – Beornas shouted towards a soldier who hurried to open the portcullis. – "Let the commander show herself!" – and he leaned over the battlements.

The riders below approached the gate and held up their torches. They were clearly visible in the circle of light. The mysterious fourth rider was definitely a woman and she bore commander's armor but her head was hidden beneath a plate helmet. Slowly, she reached for it and took it off. Black hair that flown from beneath the headpiece were dirty; deep brown eyes and a pretty face – tired and covered in a mixture of mud and blood.

Yet, it was clearly Scarlet Commander Marjhan and it was definitely her voice that sounded – "Convinced now, Beornas?"

–"Convinced that you look like Commander, that it's her body – yes. But where are your escorts? What news do you bring from the Chillwind and how were you able to reach the camp so soon after departing?" – answered the Captain.

- "I do not think there is any need for me to explain myself before you, unless of course you were promoted in my absence. Open the damn gate!" – shouted Marjhan

- "Hold it!" – said Beornas once again.

– "But sir!" – young gatekeeper tried to protest – "Commander's rank supersedes yours. I have to carry out her order!"

– "I think not" – said Willey calmly, though there was a cold resolve in his voice – "The circumstances of Commander's original departure and her sudden return without any of her comrades are highly suspicious. Her reluctance to explain herself – even more so. We have a duty to uphold – protect the citizens of Tyr's Hand from any threat the Plaguelands have to offer. Unless the commander can convince us that she's not affected by our enemy's designs, we will not let her into the city."

- "You are overstepping your authority!" – shouted Marjhan

– "And you're forgetting, m'lady" – Beornas emphasized the last word – "That the Crusade has been infiltrated once before and we must make sure that it won't happen again!"

Willey leaned over the battlements as well, his hand on a holster of his handgun. The gatekeeper reluctantly stepped away from the gate-opening mechanism.

Marjhan sighed – "They're dead Beornas. All of them. The Scourge intercepted us near the Thondroril. We never reached our destination."

– "Attack of the Scourge killed all of your escorts, yet you miraculously made it back here?" – the Captain remained unconvinced.

- "Hardly. I was their prisoner for a time unknown to me, for they kept me in darkness and despair. They tortured me and I was nearly broken. Yet, as they tried to transport me to a new destination, we were attacked by the Ebon Blade. In a midst of fighting, I managed to escape. That is all."

More soldiers appeared on the ramparts. They awaited the Captain's verdict with anxiety. Beornas noticed the excitement in their voices as they discussed the incident and he understood their feelings. Marjhan seemed… different. Different from what she was like before her sojourn, but more importantly – different from the rest of them. Her voice was strong and firm. It was almost like a thunder, which heralded a storm that would disperse damp, stale air and bring new one – fresh and clean. He wanted to give in to this sudden magic of her arrival, the flicker of hope it brought to his heart. Yet, he was responsible for Tyr's Hand now and all of its inhabitants and, as much, as he wanted to feel the opposite way, the Commander's tale certainly had too many holes to satisfy his curiosity. He looked at Willey, who shook his head.

Beornas nodded and then said – "I'm sorry, but your tale didn't convince me. You were able to escape them and recover all of your armor and your horse? There were two hostile groups after you but you managed to escape them both? This doesn't make any sense. You will be relieved of your weapons and armor and placed under custody of the Inquisition. Once your identity has been confirmed or denied, we will decide what to do with you.

Suddenly, Marjhan laughed. Everyone looked at her with amazement, for it was filled with happiness and relief.

– "By the Light Beornas, how glad I am, that you aren't lost yet! And Willey… sharp as usual. It's good to be home again!" – and she drew her sword and raised it above her head.

Three guards that escorted her to the gate reached for their weapons; Willey pointed his handgun at her; soldiers at the walls were loading heavy crossbows… And then they dropped whatever they were currently holding and covered their eyes with their hands to protect them. Alessia's blade shone with light. It blinded them, but didn't cause pain. Beornas felt pleasant warmth spreading to all parts of his body. He opened his eyes and noticed the others do the same. It wasn't a light… it was the Light. When it shone, the contours seemed sharper; the colors – deeper. He saw Marjhan reach for a large sack, strapped to her saddle.

– "Her sword!" – shouted someone. Beornas felt his jaw dropping. The blade was straight and simple, yet it did retain many characteristic pieces of design. It was a runeblade – a death knight's sword. And yet it was radiating the purest Light Beornas has ever seen since…

- "A runeblade, indeed!" – shouted Marjhan

– "But no longer an enemy of the true believers! And this you should also recognize!" – She added while throwing the contents of her sack to the ground. Monstrous head was all too familiar to the soldiers.

– "Kirtonos!" – shouted one of them – "The Herald is no more!"

– "Could she be the champion promised us by the bishop?!" – wondered another one

– "I am no champion" – answered Marjhan – "And I certainly have nothing to do with Fellen and his ilk! I hope that I also proved to you that I'm no friend of the Scourge! Or the Ebon Blades, for not one, but five of their runeblades I've obtained from their dead hands!"

There was a cheer on the walls.

– "Now, Captain Beornas, will you let me in?!"

– "Let her in, sire!"; "The commander will make things right again!"; "Hurry up, open the gates!" – shouted the men

– "There is more out there than just the Scourge!" – said Willey, adamant in his denial – "The Crusade was once betrayed by one of its best and he was just as convincing as you are!"

His statement did not go well with the soldiers, who yelled at him, expressing their displeasure.

– "I can offer you no further proof." – Said Alessia – "You've seen all the evidence that I have to offer. What remains is a matter of faith."

Beornas looked at the cannon master, who shook his head.

– "It's your call, my friend" – he said.

Captain imagined the flipping of a coin. The gold piece was flung in the air and then it landed on its edge and started rotating. Beornas took a deep breath and issued an order. The coin has fallen on its side. There was no turning back now.

* * *

Far away, the icy wind blown, making the man's cape flow behind his back like a pair of nightmarish wings. Armored woman gripped the shaft of her ornate hand axe so tightly that it pained her. Yet, she didn't release her hold. Her hair, of a unique shade between dark chestnut and brown was gathered into a tight bun on top of her head. Her face was fair, though its features were sharp and her lips – locked in an angry grimace. There was something ominous about the approaching figure. Something was amiss… she shouldn't have come here; she shouldn't have brought them with her. There was some darkness looming on the horizon, she could feel it. Maybe there was still time to turn back…

- "High General?" – the man now stood before her.

She sighed. The coin has fallen on its side. There was no escape now, their fate was sealed.

– "May my men forgive me for what I have done" – she thought, while speaking out loud – "Welcome to New Hearthglen, Admiral Westwind. May your miraculous survival be a sign of the new grace brought upon us by the holy Light and a change in our fortunes."

– "Indeed" – the man's voice was deep and pleasant to hear, yet Abbendis shivered as he spoke – "You can't even imagine the extent of this change."

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

The door burst open and struck the inner wall of the Basilica, accompanied by the howling of the wind. Fresh, cold air of winter night made its way into the building. The torch flames flickered and went out. The church's interior was filled with dim vapor produced by the burning incense. Its sweet aroma was mixed with the stench of blood, pouring from open wounds onto the marble floor. All noises were cut short – religious chants, swooshing whips, moans of pain and rapture alike. The crowd went silent.

Before the altar, with his back to the entrance, stood bishop Fellen. He breathed heavily, visibly fatigued. At his feet, in a pool of blood, lied Lord Vraldemar's body. There was no telling, whether the ruler of Tyr's Hand was alive or dead – but one couldn't make out as much as a single patch of clean flesh on his back. It was covered in dozens of wounds.

– "My Liege!" – came a voice from the outside – "What they have done to you?!"

There was a sound of weapons being drawn and angry murmurs. The flagellants looked around, disoriented. Some were visibly numbed by the smell of the burning incense, for their faces were blank and devoid of any comprehension. Others reached for their whips and turned to face those, who would intrude upon their ceremony. The rest fell to the floor as a sudden pause in this bloody orgy made them painfully aware of their self-inflicted wounds.

- "How dare you defile this holy ground in the middle of a ceremony?!" – shouted Fellen – "Turn back now! Don't you dare take even a single step forward!"

For a moment, everyone was motionless. And then, an armored foot touched the marble floor of the Basilica with deliberate strength. Then a second one.

– "It was a holy ground, once; but not anymore. Your sick mockery of a religion has left it completely barren." – Alessia Marjhan's voice was calm but cold and resolute – "Step away from my Liege, Fellen!"

– "You will not interfere with his rites of repentance, disciple of a coward!" – yelled the bishop, turning to face her. The whole front of his robe was covered in blood, which has also stained his face.

– "The Light told me to await your arrival, Marjhan! Once I'm done with you, the path to our redemption shall be clear!" – he raised his hand, pointing at the woman, who was still coming closer – "Your mistress was a coward and the same are you! You left us! The Light has told me truth! You were plotting your own escape!"

– "Yet here I am, Fellen! No more will I run from the likes of you! Quickly, go and secure Lord Vraldemar!" – answered Marjhan.

The last words were directed at Beornas, who entered the Basilica soon after her. He nodded and went forward, approaching Fellen, who continued his speech.

– "That's because you serve our enemies now! Be gone, by the power of the Holy Light I command you!" – He suddenly reached upwards with both of his hands.

Alessia reached to her side, but suddenly, she disappeared in a column of roaring fire that descended from above. The flames engulfed her completely. People backed away from the place she was standing in with awe on their faces. Even the other soldiers, who entered the church after their commander's lead were backing down. Only Beornas remained inside, still approaching Fellen with a stern look on his face.

– "Such is the fate of all, who oppose the Light!" – yelled the bishop, starting to laugh. Then, he turned his attention to the captain – "Ah, Beornas. So willing to take your penance? I'll be happy to oblige! Get him!"

And three of his men rushed towards the red-bearded man.

Suddenly, three things happened at once. Fellen's laughter stopped suddenly; his men, who were closing in on Beornas fell down, one after another, on the floor; each one with a hole in his forehead; and the column of flames suddenly disappeared.

Alessia Marjhan stood there, completely unharmed, with her weapon drawn. A bastard sword held in her right hand was pointed at Fellen. There was a stripe of pure blackness in the middle of its blade, but the edges burned with golden flames. Murmur arose within the Basilica. Meanwhile, at the doorway of the church, Scarlet Captain Willey blown off the smoke coming out of his rifle and raised it once again to cover his companion inside. Beornas approached Fellen and went past him, the shocked bishop failing to notice him altogether, and then knelt by Vraldemar's body. He held a hand by his lord's throat for a minute, then he looked at Alessia and slowly shook his head.

Even Fellen himself had to step back away before the sudden fury of Alessia's face. Most of his followers were now on their knees, cowering in fear at the sight of this majestic figure, surrounded by an aura of vengeful fire. An angel of just retribution she seemed to become. Her hair flown in the air, raised by a force unknown. Her entire body shone with Light.

– "Willey, Beornas; take them out of here. Maybe they'll regain their minds once outside. And be sure to dispose of their whips." – she said.

Both officers proceeded to carry out her orders. Meanwhile Marjhan approached Fellen, who couldn't conceal his fear, as his whole body trembled at her arrival.

– "Behold, the darkness turned into Light, Fellen! The devourer of shadows, Tacendus!" – The sword's tip now touched the bishop's chin – "You disgust me. You represent our worst features combined into one – blind zeal, opportunism and subterfuge. You sought to turn us into a mindless rabble that you could direct as you please. If you truly are of that Light, which name you call so recklessly, then bathe in this!"

She then thrust her sword into the marble floor and grabbed his robe. He desperately tried to escape her grip, but for no avail – the gap between their strengths was enormous. He could only watch Marjhan lift him up. He tried to say something, but then Alessia's hands shone and he was engulfed by the holy fire.

– "Y-you can't win!" – he mumbled – "The Light spoke to me!"

She felt him invoking his own power to protect himself. Flames backed down a little but Marjhan didn't intend on giving up. She pressed on and, after a while, his protective shield started to crack. Flames began to consume bishop's robe; they touched his body. He screamed in pain.

– "You fool" – whispered Alessia mildly, nearly gently – "Did you forget the Sermons? The Light doesn't work that way. It doesn't speak to us directly; it doesn't let itself be contained by the limitations of our words. The need of heart, the sharpness of wit, the call of soul – they are the music of the Light. Whatever you heard, it was not the Light."

– "F-Faol's words. But I know what I heard! It was beautiful!" – shouted the bishop.

The last word became a scream, as Fellen desperately tried to overcome Alessia's flames. But it was for naught. He screamed again.

– "The pain you brought, despair, madness." – Alessia carried on – "I can understand now that they are not the way of the Light – of Faol, Lightbringer, Turalyon, and Mograine; of…" – she hesitated for a while – "of true believers. There will be no Dawn, Argent or Crimson, granted upon us; no sudden salvation. We must win it! The Light won't help those, who lack a will to face their fate with their heads raised!"

– "I…I…beware!" – screamed Fellen – "Beware the one I named 'the champion', for he will come! And... the other… the one, who holds the strings of the puppeteer… Beware the… Silent…Screamer!"

And in a flash of Light he turned to ash, with but a faint echo of his last protest remaining – "It…was beautiful!"

* * *

Knocking on the door awoke Alessia. She raised her head from an oaken desk it rested on. Its whole surface was buried under documents.

– "Shit!" – whispered Marjhan after she looked outside the window.

The sun was setting; she slept through the whole day and the burial was getting close. There was another knock. Alessia looked at her worn-out clothes and cursed. No use changing now.

– "Come in!" – she shouted.

– "I love what you've done with this place!" – exclaimed a middle-aged man clad in a dark crimson robe.

His balding head sported patches of brown hair; his eyes of a very similar coloration were hidden under bushy brow. He walked bent down a little, as if he carried a burden on his back. Usually dark and brooding, rather listening than talking to others, now he was suspiciously cheerful. Yet, Alessia was glad to see him. After all, she and Alberich Doan did have one thing in common.

– "Forgive the mess but I've been awake for nearly two days straight now and whole this time I was digging through all this documentation. First thing that has to be done is the appointment of a new archivist." – she said apologetically.

- "Yeah, and who wouldn't want the job?! Especially after finding out that its previous occupant had been burned alive?" – he answered.

Alessia looked at him doubtfully. Doan sighed. All of his cheerfulness disappeared in a blink of an eye.

– "I'm sorry" – he said grimly – "I grabbed a pint on my way here. Or four."

– "Five at least, I'd say" – Marjhan approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. He stared grimly at the floor below his feet, clenching his fists. Even after all that time… - "You're not the only one she hurt, Doan. Go and rest, I'll need you at your fullest. We can spare you the funeral."

– "No, I'll be there. I owe at least that much to poor Vraldemar. Better prepare yourself; we're starting in half an hour" – he then turned to the room's exit.

– "Doan, wait!" – she stopped him – "Seems I need some rest as well. I forgot to ask you – what's the verdict?"

– "Well, you are the highest ranking military officer in Tyr's Hand, so no problem here. Galvar Pureblood would supersede you but he didn't nominate anyone for his position before he died, so Hearthglen doesn't raise any protests either. And while my beloved abbot would surely appoint his own candidate, especially after being pressed by oh-so-lovely heel of her eminence, Grand Inquisitor Whitemane, his influence in the military is too low for him to find anyone suitable enough. Congratulations; you're now the Supreme Military Commander of what remains of our Scarlet Crusade." – he said, leaving the chamber.

Marjhan took a deep breath and then looked around the late Lord Vraldemar's room. She had half an hour to make herself look well enough for the funeral. She called a squire to help her put the armor on.

* * *

The weather matched the occasion perfectly, as heavy raindrops were falling down on the crowd of mourners gathered around a single, marble coffin. Hundreds have watched the last journey of Lord Vraldemar, when his casket, carried by a horse wagon was being transported from the keep, from where he ruled over the city in his life to the Basilica, where in dungeons, he was about to rest.

The artillery shots heralded the passing of the last lord of Tyr's Hand, the man, who has led its people through the nightmare of the Scourge Invasion. There were no flowers, for one would be hard pressed to find them in this dismal land, but people thrown small pieces of red clothing on the course of the conduct. Before the cart carrying the coffin, a rider rode with the city's banner – A silver hand clenched in fist thrust into the maw of a monstrous, grey wolf. Behind the wagon, the armored leaders of the Crusade followed on feet and after them, the delegates of various settlements under the Scarlet protection.

Once the conduct arrived at the Basilica, four men took the coffin from the cart and carried it inside the church. Deacon Valmus, who took the mantle of the religious leader of the city from the late Fellen, awaited it in the elaborate gateway. Once the casket has been brought inside, the other participants of the conduct slowly climbed the steps to the Basilica.

Once on top of them, Marjhan turned around and facing the silent crowd shouted – "One last salute for Lord Vraldemar!"

And then she turned back towards the church with her fist above her chest. Each one of the people gathered outside followed her gesture. The cannons sounded once again.

After the ceremony, they carried the coffin into the catacombs beneath the Basilica, where an ornate sarcophagus was to be prepared. Marjhan watched the casket descend down the gravesite and then a simple gravestone be set to cover the hole temporarily.

– "So passes Lord Vraldemar, sovereign ruler of Tyr's Hand. My Liege." – she said and then she knelt by the carved stone. – "May the Light embrace his soul and carry him to the world beyond. May he be proud of us and let us have the strength to be worthy of his pride."

Then the others came by, one by one, and knelt and prayed as well. Once everyone was done, Marjhan and Beornas put an ornate shield, bearing the symbol of the Crusade on the gravestone, with a white ribbon wrapped around it. Afterwards, they left the tomb, which was then sealed behind them until the mourning is over and the workers will be let inside to make the sarcophagus. The ceremony was over.

They went outside, to the cold rain falling from the sky and heralding the arrival of the first spring months. The winter was coming to an end. Was that a sign? Marjhan doubted it. So much remained to be done. Many things would have to change if they were to survive. Their army was decimated; their supplies – dwindling. They were all alone in the hostile land. She had to make new alliances; to restore their faith and confidence; prepare them for… what exactly? Who was this 'champion' she heard Fellen speak about? And the other one; 'who holds the strings of the puppeteer'? Was it the Lich King? No; that would be too simple. Did he have anything to do with this terrifying darkness she witnessed in her vision while within the sword?

"You had me in your grasp and yet, you let me go. Once you saw me command the power of Tacendus, you changed your initial plans. The status quo was to be toppled, but why? Are you the one holding the strings…"

* * *

In darkness, deep below the city of ghosts, shadows whispered and the dead walked. They stared blankly into the void while continuing their mindless march. Even if they could see through this blackness that surrounded them, they wouldn't notice the mare, who walked among them and then entered a small alcove filled with comfortable, soft cushions. She sat on them and then lied down, stretching her body with more than a hint of sensuality. The dead turned towards the niche, where their mistress was resting with a cruel smile on her beautiful face.

– "Pray, my sweet pets" – she whispered – "Pray to our lord."

One by one, the dead opened their mouths as their souls suffered an unimaginable pain; however no voice came out of their throats. In the endless hours of torture, when she turned humans they once were to what they are now, she made sure it never could. Her smile broadened. It has all begun.

* * *

"… Jandice Barov?"

_And so ends "The Awoken Flame". Thanks a million to all those who bore with my writing and even more to those who commented on it. Much appreciation! I was thinking about writing short appendix and adding it later to explain who are various characters within the story, which part of it is my own creation and which is supported by warcraft lore, etc. I have also begun writing a sequel and hope to put it on the site sometime later. Cheers!_

_ kubosz _


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